UNIVERSITY  OF 
ILLINOIS  LIBRARY 

U.^5^.NA-CHA^'.PA: 


THE 

GREAT  TEXTS  OF  THE  BIBLE 


THE  GREAT  TEXTS 
OF  THE  BIBLE 

EDITED  EY  THE  REV. 

JAMES  HASTINGS,  D.D. 

EDITOR  OF  "THE  EXPOSITORY  TIMES"  "THE  DICTIONARY  OF  THE  BIBLE" 
"THE   DICTIONARY   OF    CHRIST   AND   THE   GOSPELS"  AND 
"THE  ENCYCLOPEDIA  OF  RELIGION  AND  ETHICS" 


PSALMS  XXIV.-GXIX. 


NEW  YORK 

CHARLES  SGRIBNER'S  SONS 
EDINBURGH :  T.  &  T.  CLARK 
1914 


Printed  by 

M0RBI30N  &  GiBB  LIMITED, 

FOE 

T.   &  T.  CLARK,  EDINBURGH. 

LONDON  :  SIMPKIN,  MARSHALL,  HAMILTON,  KENT,  AND  CO.  LIMITKDk 
NBW  YORK  :  CHARLES  SCRIBNBR'S  SONS 


iVl'' 

CONTENTS 


TOPICS. 


/  PAGE 

The  Secret  of  the  Lord 

Waiting  Courageously  .         .         .         .         ,         ,  .19 

The  Transience  of  Sorrow    .         .         .         .         .  .37 

Room  to  Live  51 
The  Beatitude  of  Forgiveness         .         .         ,         ,  .67 
The  Guiding  Eye         ......  .83 

The  Goodness  of  God   .......  97 

God  of  Nature  and  God  of  Grace   ....         .  117 

Life  and  Light  ........  137 

Delighting  in  the  Lord         .         .         .         .         .  .153 

The  Crowning  of  the  Year    .         .         .         .         .  .167 

The  Burden-Bearing  God       .         .         .         .         .         .  179 

A  Sun  and  a  Shield    .......  195 

The  Home  of  the  Soul  ......  209 

The  Right  Use  of  Time         ......  225 

God's  Inner  Circle       .         .         .         .         .         ,         .  239 

Strength  and  Beauty  .......  255 

Light  and  Gladness     .         ...         ...  269 

All  His  Benefits         .......  283 

The  Father's  Pity       .         .         .....  303 

The  Day's  Work.         .......  317 

Leanness  of  Soul         .......  337 

A  Volunteer  Army       .         .         .         .         .         .  .351 

The  Brook  in  the  Way         ......  367 

What  shall  I  Render?  ......  383 

The  Day  which  the  Lord  made       .....  397 

The  Clean  Path  .         ,         ,         ,        . ,         .         .  413 

The  Wondrous  Law      .......  427 

Liberty  in  God's  Law  .......  446 


vi 


CONTENTS 


TEXTS. 

Psalms. 


PAGE 

XXV.  14    .  3 

XXVII.  14  21 

XXX.  5  39 

XXXI.  8  53 

XXXII.  1,  2  69 

XXXII.  8  .          .         .          .          .          .          .  .85 

XXXIV.  8  99 

XXXVI.  5,  6   .  .119 

XXXVI.  9  139 

XXXVII.  4  165 

LXV.  11  169 

LXVIII.  19  181 

LXXXIV.  11  197 

.    XC.  1  211 

XC.  12  227 

XCI.  1  241 

XCVI.  6   .257 

XCVII.  11  271 

cm.  1-5  .          .         .          .          .          .          .  .285 

cm.  13,  14  .         .          .          .          .         .          .  305 

CIV.  23     .  .319 

CVL  15     .  .  339 

ex.  3      .  353 

ex.  7  369 

CXVI.  12-14  385 

CXVIII.  24    399 

CXIX.  9  415 

CXIX.  18   .  .429 

CXIX.  96     .  .   447 


The  Secret  of  the  Lord. 


PS.  XXV.-CXIX. — I 


/ 


Literature. 

Banks  (L.  A.),  The  King's  Stewards,  142. 
Brooks  (P.),  New  Starts  in  Life,  271. 
Clow  (W.  M.),  The  Secret  of  the  Lord,  1. 
Cowl  (F.  B.),  Digging  Ditches,  79. 

Holland  (C),  Gleanings  from  a  Ministry  of  Fifty  Years,  150. 
Johnston  (J.  B.),  The  Ministry  of  Reconciliation,  323. 
Jowett  (J.  H.),  Brooks  by  the  Traveller's  Way,  172. 

Keble  (J.),  Sermons  for  the  Christian  Year :  Ascension  Day  to  Trinity 

Sunday,  343. 
Morrison  (G.  H.),  The  Afterglow  of  God,  366. 
Potts  (A.  W.),  School  Sermons,  78. 
Selby  (T.  G.),  The  Divine  Craftsman,  142. 
Simeon  (C),  Works,  v.  168. 
Vaughan  (C.  J.),  Memorials  of  Harrow,  270. 
Literary  Churchman,  xxxviii.  (1892)  45  (C.  W.  Whistler). 
Sunday  at  Home,  1910,  p.  629  (G.  H.  Morrison). 
Treasury  (New  York),  xvii.  404  (G,  B.  F.  Hallock). 


3 


\ 


The  Secret  of  the  Lord. 


The  secret  of  the  Lord  is  with  them  that  fear  him ; 
And  he  will  shew  them  his  covenant.— Ps.  xxv.  14. 

When  the  Hebrew  poet  spoke  of  the  secret  of  the  Lord  he  meant 
the  knowledge  of  the  God  of  Israel,  the  unseen  and  eternal  Jehovah. 
When  he  thought  of  them  that  fear  Him,  he  remembered  the 
stalwart  saints  who  shall  ever  be  the  heroic  leaders  of  the  faith. 
He  recalled  Abraham  coming  out  of  Ur  of  the  Chaldees  with  a 
wisdom  and  a  knowledge  that  no  Babylonian  star-gazer  ever 
divined.  He  thought  of  Jacob  rising  from  his  midnight  dream  at 
Bethel,  saying  in  penitence  and  awe,  "  Surely  the  Lord  is  in  this 
place ;  and  I  knew  it  not."  He  saw  Moses  at  the  burning  bush, 
putting  off  the  shoes  from  his  feet,  for  the  place  whereon  he  stood 
was  holy  ground.  He  remembered  Samuel  coming  out  of  the 
temple  in  the  morning  light,  having  heard  the  voice  of  God,  with 
a  message  he  dared  not  tell  to  Eli.  Each  of  these  had  entered 
into  a  solemn  experience.  Each  of  them  had  come  forth  with 
a  secret.  A  new  and  deeper  understanding  of  God's  ways,  and 
thoughts,  and  purposes  had  been  given  them.  He  marks  the  law 
of  their  experience.  It  was  the  law  of  fear.  They  had  that  fear 
of  God  which  is  an  awe  and  a  reverence,  a  passion  of  desire  to 
know,  and  a  willingness  to  submit  and  to  obey.  Therefore  God 
made  known  the  secret  to  them. 

^  Thompson  dwells  on  St.  Paul's  unspoken  message,  which, 
designated  by  the  name  of  wisdom,  he  withheld  from  many  of  the 
Corinthians  because  they  were  not  fit  to  hear  it.  He  communi- 
cated it  to  the  sjnritual  not  to  the  animal  man.  Origen  says  that 
that  which  St.  Paul  would  have  called  wisdom  is  found  in  the 
"  Canticle  of  Canticles."  Thompson  dwells  further  on  the  hidden 
meanings  of  the  Pentateuch,  believing  that  there  was  "an  inex- 
haustible treasure  of  divine  wisdom  concealed  under  the  letter  of 
Holy  Writ."  Thompson  saw  wise  men  whispering,  and  guessed 
that  there  were  secrets ;  their  presence  discovered,  they  were  open 

3 


4 


THE  SECRET  OF  THE  LORD 


secrets  for  such  as  he.  "  You  have  but  to  direct  my  sight,  and 
the  intentness  of  my  gaze  will  discover  the  rest."  ^ 

^  There  were  three  courts  in  the  Temple  at  Jerusalem.  There 
was  the  outer  court,  where  even  the  Gentiles  who  cared  nothing 
for  the  God  of  Israel  or  the  faith  of  the  Hebrew  people  might 
freely  come.  There  was  the  holy  place  with  its  sacred  things, 
where  only  the  Hebrew  worshipper  might  walk.  There  was  the 
most  holy  place,  over  which  the  veil  of  the  Temple  hung,  and  into 
whose  unseen  and  unknown  seclusion  the  high  priest  entered  once 
every  year,  alone.  There  are  these  three  courts  in  the  life  of  a 
Christian  man.  There  is  the  outer  court,  where  a  man  who  is 
living  his  life  in  the  world  must  keep  company  with  all  who  enter 
its  circle.  He  must  rub  shoulders  with  the  crowd,  although  he 
never  forgets  that  they  cannot  enter  into  his  secret.  There  is  the 
holy  place,  where  fellow-believers  may  pass,  and  speech  and 
thought  of  the  things  of  God  have  a  gracious  liberty.  But  there 
is  the  most  holy  place,  and  what  passes  there  between  God  and 
the  soul  is  to  be  kept  with  a  guarded  reticence  until  there  is  need 
for  its  being  told.^ 

^  When  the  ancient  Jew  approached  his  sanctuary,  he  found 
an  outer  court  of  the  Temple  full  of  activity  with  the  coming  and 
going  of  those  who  touched  the  whole  natural  life  and  the  daily 
sacrifice  on  the  altar.  But  behind  lay  the  still  silent  room  where 
the  golden  lamp  burned  and  the  bread  of  life  was  resting  on  the 
golden  table.  And  behind  again  the  silence  of  the  Holy  of  Holies 
where  man  and  God  merge  in  union.  Even  so  it  is  not  the  great 
activity,  touching  national  issues — it  is  not  even  the  sacrificial  life 
of  Dr.  Baton  that  has  most  attracted  me  and,  I  believe,  others. 
But  here  was  a  priest  of  the  Most  High  God,  in  the  sanctuary  of 
whose  heart  the  light  burned  and  the  bread  of  life  was  broken. 
And  with  reverent  awe  we  knew  that  behind  lay  communion  with 
the  Inspirer  and  Hearer  of  Prayer.  So  that  out  of  him  from  the 
Divine  source  flow  "  rivers  of  living  water."  Thus  heaven  touched 
earth  through  our  intercourse,  and  the  passion  for  service  of  his 
soul  entered  ours.^ 

The  secret  of  the  Lord,  as  the  Psalmist  conceives  it,  may  be 
held  to  include  (1)  Knowledge;  (2)  Character;  (3)  Happiness. 
Knowledge  is  the  secret  of  the  Teacher,  Character  is  the  secret  of 
the  Friend,  Happiness  is  the  secret  of  the  Lover. 

1  E.  Meynell,  The  Life  of  Francis  Thom2)son  (1913),  223. 

2  W.  M.  Clow,  The  Secret  of  the  Lord,  247. 
'  J.  Marchant,  J.  B.  Faton,  311. 


PSALM  XXV.  14 


5 


I. 

Knowledge. 

1.  Every  teacher  has  his  secret.  He  scans  his  scholars,  eager 
to  find  a  receptive  mind  to  whom  he  can  reveal  it.  When  the 
responsive  glance,  the  significant  word,  or  the  searching  question 
reveals  the  student's  promise,  the  teacher  has  an  exquisite  joy  in 
revealing  his  secret. 

H  The  great  painters  of  the  Middle  Ages  took  pupils  into  their 
studios.  To  every  aspirant  they  gave  honest  attention.  When 
one  came  who  was  swift  to  understand  his  master's  conceptions, 
eager  to  imitate  his  strength  of  line  and  purity  of  colour,  humbly 
and  patiently  reverent  in  his  zeal,  the  secret  was  disclosed.  In 
our  own  day  Edward  Burne  Jones  became  a  disciple  of  Dante 
Gabriel  Eossetti.  He  spent  still  and  strenuous  hoars  in  copying 
his  master's  works,  studying  their  distinction,  and  aspiring  after 
their  spirit.  With  a  trembling  heart  young  Burne  Jones  took  his 
drawings  to  Eossetti  to  receive  his  judgment  upon  them.  The 
honest  painter  looked  at  them  in  silence,  and  with  a  word  of 
emotion  he  said,  "  You  have  nothing  more  to  learn  from  me."  He 
had  entered  into  the  master's  secret.  But  mark  the  law.  It  is 
not  to  the  carping  critic,  the  scorning  and  cynical  scholar,  the 
contemptuous  idler,  that  the  secret  is  revealed.  The  secret  is 
"with  them  that  fear."i 

God  keeps  His  holy  mysteries 

Just  on  the  outside  of  man's  dream.  ... 

Yet,  touching  so,  they  draw  above 

Our  common  thoughts  to  Heaven's  unknown; 

Our  daily  joy  and  pain  advance 

To  a  divine  significance.^ 

2.  There  is  a  mystery  in  every  Christian  life.  When  the 
words  are  said  in  our  hearing,  "  The  secret  of  the  Lord  is  with 
them  that  fear  him,"  they  seem  to  give  a  momentary  glimpse  of 
the  truth.  There  is  a  secret  in  such  lives,  and  that  secret  is  God's. 
He  has  to  do  with  them.  There  is  a  communication  between 
their  souls  and  Him.    He  has  told  them  a  secret,  and  they  keep  it. 

1  W.  M.  Clow,  The  Secret  of  the  Lord,  4. 
'  E.  B.  Browning. 


6 


THE  SECRET  OF  THE  LORD 


Others  may  see  that  they  have  a  secret ;  but  intermeddle  with 
it  they  cannot.  There  is  only  one  way  to  attain  it — by  going 
through  the  same  process  as  these  have  gone  through.  We  may 
not  at  present  think  it  worth  our  while  to  do  so,  or  we  may  have 
an  undefined  dread  of  the  supposed  difficulty  and  irksomeness  of 
that  process :  but  at  least  let  us  lay  it  up  well  in  our  hearts  that 
there  is  such  a  process,  and  such  an  end ;  that  the  Christian  s  life 
is  a  reality,  whether  we  ever  attain  that  life  or  not ;  a  mystery, 
whether  we  be  ever  initiated  into  that  mystery  or  not;  let  us 
accept  and  reverence  the  mspired  declaration  that  "  the  secret  of 
the  Lord  is  with  them  that  fear  him." 

^  The  more  of  a  man  a  man  is,  the  more  secret  is  the  secret 
of  his  life,  and  the  more  plain  and  frank  are  its  external  workings. 
A  small  and  shallow  man  tries  to  throw  a  mystery  about  the  mere 
methods  of  his  life,  he  tries  to  make  his  ways  of  living  seem 
obscure.  Where  he  goes,  how  he  makes  his  fortune,  whom  he 
talks  with,  what  his  words  mean,  who  his  friends  are — he  is  very 
mysterious  about  all  these,  and  all  because  the  secret  of  his  life 
is  really  weak,  because  he  is  conscious  that  there  is  no  really 
strong  purpose  of  living  which  he  himself  understands.  It  is  a 
shallow  pool  which  muddies  its  surface  to  make  itself  look  deep. 
But  a  greater  man  will  be  perfectly  frank  and  unmysterious  about 
these  little  things.  Anybody  may  know  what  he  does  and  where 
he  goes.  His  acts  will  be  transparent,  his  words  will  be  in- 
telligible. Yet  all  the  while  every  one  who  looks  at  him  will  see 
that  there  is  something  behind  all,  which  escapes  the  closest 
observation.  The  very  clearness  of  the  surface  will  show  how 
deep  the  water  is,  how  far  away  the  bottom  lies.  There  is  hardly 
a  better  way  to  tell  a  great  man  from  a  little  one.^ 

^  He  always  lived  with  his  blinds  up,  and  you  saw  all 
the  workings  of  his  mind.  'Had  he  not  been  steeped  in  the 
spirit  of  love  he  could  never  have  survived  the  self-exposure 
which  was  a  habit  with  him.  But  his  very  caprices  were  always 
unselfish,  and  he  could  afford  to  let  his  friends  look  him  through 
and  through.2 

As  in  some  cavern  dark  and  deep. 

My  soul  within  me  here  lies  low, 
Where,  veiled,  she  dreams  in  wondrous  sleep 

Of  things  I  may  not  know. 

J  Phillips  Brooks,  New  Starts  in  Life,  272. 

2  Love  and  Life :  The  Story  of  J.  Denholm  Brash  (1913),  163. 


PSALM  XXV.  14 


7 


And  if  perchance  she  wake  awhile, 
I  probe  her  radiant  eyes  in  vain : 

She  turns  from  me  with  misty  smile 
And,  sighing,  sleeps  again.^ 

3.  God  may  be  expected  to  keep  some  things  hidden.  In  the 
most  intimate  and  sacred  of  our  friendships  it  is  not  for  us  to  say 
what  secrets  shall  be  made  known  to  us,  and  what  secrets  shall  be 
guarded  from  our  cognizance.  A  government  reserves  to  itself 
the  right  of  saying  what  information  may  be  imparted  to  its 
friends,  and  what,  for  sufficient  reasons,  shall  be  kept  back.  A 
general  on  the  battle-field,  whilst  putting  safe  and  suitable 
selections  of  news  at  the  service  of  authorized  war  correspondents, 
cannot  allow  them  unlimited  access  to  his  plans.  It  is  necessary 
to  respect  official  reserve.  And  is  not  the  temper  which  accepts 
such  conditions  binding  on  a  true  servant  of  God  ?  Let  God 
Himself  choose  the  things  He  sees  fit  to  make  known  to  us.  If 
we  live  in  reverent  and  believing  fellowship  He  will  treat  us  as 
confidants,  and  our  knowledge  of  His  methods  and  purposes  will 
surpass  that  of  the  world ;  but  at  the  same  time  we  need  to  be 
told  once  and  again  that  He  cannot  admit  us  to  equality  with 
Himself  by  making  known  the  veiled  things  we  petulantly 
demand.  It  ought  to  satisfy  us  if  His  heart  trusts  us,  and 
He  comes  to  us  in  forms  of  revelation  withheld  from  the  world. 
He  who  is  thus  initiated  into  His  deep  counsels  and  led  to 
know  His  will  makes  few  mistakes  in  his  prayers,  and  the  faith 
he  cherishes  does  not  suffer  the  bitterness  of  disappointment  or 
betrayal. 

^  I  have  heard  Sir  Clifford  Allbutt  and  Signor  agree  that  the 
necessity  or,  perhaps  better,  the  love  of  the  mysterious,  was  an 
essential  and  valuable  part  of  the  human  mind ;  far  from  being 
all  disadvantageous  or  an  impediment  to  progress,  it  had  been  in 
the  main  a  stimulus  towards  something  transcending  man's  best 
efforts.  Signor  said:  "  It  is  in  fact  the  poetic  element;  and  what 
in  the  superstitious  mind  is  mere  dread,  in  Browning  and 
Tennyson  is  aspiration.  You  cannot  take  away  the  mysterious 
from  man,  he  cannot  do  without  it."  ^ 

•J  One  of  the   most   beautiful   of    the    Bishop's  sonnets 

^  Laurence  Alma  Tadema. 

2  M.  S.  Watts,  George  Frederic  Watts,  ii.  177. 


8  THE  SECRET  OF  THE  LORD 


was  composed  at  Trondhjem  on  August  12,  1888.  It  rung 
thus : — 

And  was  it  there — the  splendour  I  behold? 
This  great  fjord  with  its  silver  grace  outspread 
And  thousand-creeked  and  thousand-islanded  ? 
Those  far-off  hills,  grape-purple,  fold  on  fold? 
For  yesterday,  when  all  day  long  there  rolled 
The  blinding  drift,  methinks,  had  some  one  said 
"  The  scene  is  fair,"  I  scarce  had  credited ; 
Yet  fairer  'tis  than  any  tongue  hath  told. 
And  it  was  there  !    Ah,  yes !    And  on  my  way 
More  bravely  I  will  go,  though  storm-clouds  lour 
And  all  my  sky  be  only  cold  and  grey; 
For  I  have  learnt  the  teaching  of  this  hour: 
And  when  God's  breath  blows  all  these  mists  afar, 
I  know  that  I  shall  see  the  things  that  are.^ 

4.  Knowledge  comes  by  obedience.  It  would  be  hopeless  to 
try  to  tell  the  secret,  even  for  the  sake  of  inducing  others  to 
treasure  it  for  themselves.  The  fact  is  that  the  secret  might  be 
told,  and  told  in  the  best  of  words,  without  its  ceasing  to  be  a 
secret  to  those  who  heard.  Words  are  necessary  in  religious  as 
in  other  matters;  but  there  is  no  fear  of  their  telling  anything 
which  ought  not  to  be  told :  first,  because  the  secret  is  designed 
for  all,  and  revealed  to  all  who  will  listen  to  it ;  and  next,  because 
it  lies  deeper  far  than  the  understanding,  and  never  becomes  the 
possession  of  any  man  till  he  takes  it  into  his  heart.  For  the 
obedience  by  which  comes  knowledge  is  the  obedience  of  the 
heart.  Obedience  to  law,  and  acts  of  worship  arising  out  of  fear 
of  penalty,  are  merely  hiding  from  God  among  the  trees  of  the 
garden.  Even  obedience  from  duty  can  never  be  a  satisfactory  or 
final  state ;  it  is  merely  educational,  to  make  manifest  defect  of 
life.  "  I  was  alive  without  the  law  once  ;  but  when  the  command- 
ment came,  sin  revived  and  I  died."  When  the  glory  of  the  Lord 
has  filled  all  the  courts  of  His  temple,  man's  outward  nature 
becomes  reconstituted,  not  after  the  law  of  a  carnal  command- 
ment, but  after  the  power  of  an  endless  or  indissoluble  life.  The 
tree  of  knowledge  becomes  one  with  the  tree  of  life  which  is  in 
the  midst  of  the  city,  and  on  both  sides  of  the  river  of  life, 
proceeding  from  the  throne  of  God  and  of  the  Lamb. 

^  F.  D.  How,  Bishop  Walsham  How,  399. 


PSALM  XXV.  14 


9 


^  I  have  known  more  than  one  Highland  saint  who  never 
had  any  intellectual  training.  They  had  had  little  schooling,  they 
never  were  at  college,  and  their  libraries  were  of  the  scantiest 
kind.  Yet  in  every  true  sense  of  the  word  they  were  men  of 
culture ;  their  language  was  choice  and  their  thoughts  large  and 
just;  and  they  had  singular  power  in  complicated  questions  of 
seizing  on  the  things  that  really  mattered.  What  was  the  secret 
of  that  mental  clarity  ? — "  If  any  man  willeth  to  do  his  will."  To 
God  they  had  prayed — in  Christ's  name  they  had  wrestled — they 
had  clung  to  the  right  and  beaten  down  the  wrong ;  until  at  last 
that  life  of  deep  obedience — that  faithfulness  to  God  in  what  was 
least — all  unexpectedly  had  reached  their  intellect,  and  made  it 
a  sphere  of  mastery  and  joy.^ 

Just  to  ask  Him  what  to  do 

All  the  day, 
And  to  make  you  quick  and  true 

To  obey. 
Just  to  know  the  needed  grace 

He  bestoweth, 
Every  bar  of  time  and  place 

Overfloweth. 
Just  to  take  thy  orders  straight 

From  the  Master's  own  command. 
Blessed  day !  when  thus  we  wait 
Always  at  our  Sovereign's  hand.^ 

5.  Obedience  is  rendered  easy  by  sympathy  and  an  open  mind. 
The  man  who  is  full  of  himself,  bent  on  his  own  will,  seeking  his 
own  ends,  is  not  in  a  frame  of  mind  to  have  the  secret  of  the  Lord 
revealed  to  him :  probably  he  does  not  want  it,  or  wish  to  have  it 
revealed  to  him.  It  is  a  check  upon  him.  He  does  not  want  the 
key  to  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven,  because  he  has  no  wish  whatever 
to  enter  into  it.  To  enter  into  the  Kingdom  of  God  is  to  do  the 
will  of  God,  and  to  try  to  love  it,  and  the  will  of  God  is  human 
duty — what  is  due  from  us  to  God  as  poor,  weak,  ignorant 
creatures  at  the  best;  coming  we  know  not  whence,  going  we 
know  not  whither ;  seeing  but  a  little  way  into  things  ;  living  by 
faith,  by  trust  in  the  power  over  us,  trust  in  the  good  about  us, 
trust  in  the  good  in  other  people ;  and  what  is  due  from  us  to 

*  G.  H.  Morrison,  The  Wings  of  the  Morning,  19. 
2  F.  R.  Havergal. 


lo         THE  SECRET  OF  THE  LORD 


others,  for  we  are  related  to  each  other  as  brethren,  because  we 
are  all  related  to  God  as  the  Father  over  all. 

^  "  See  how  that  noble  fellow  Collingwood  leads  the  fleet  into 
action ! "  exclaimed  Nelson  at  the  battle  of  Trafalgar,  as  he  looked 
on  the  ship  of  his  second  bearing  down  upon  the  French  line  under 
a  press  of  sail.  "  Ah !  what  would  Nelson  give  to  be  here ! " 
exclaimed  Admiral  Collingwood  at  the  same  moment.  It  seemed 
as  if  the  two  heroic  men  were  animated  by  one  spirit ;  as  if  by 
completeness  of  sympathy  they  knew  each  other's  thoughts. 
And  have  we  not  all  seen  something  like  this  in  our  own  ex- 
perience ?  Have  we  not  known  persons  so  congenial  in  thought 
and  feeling  that  scenes  in  nature  lighted  up  their  faces  with  the 
same  delight,  or  cast  over  them  the  shadows  of  thoughtfulness  and 
awe ;  sights  of  distress  and  tales  of  sorrow  drew  forth  from  them 
kindred  tears  of  compassion  ;  a  noble  poem  or  an  eloquent  oration 
awakened  in  their  bosoms  the  same  pure  and  generous  emotions  ? 
And  such,  too,  is  the  power  of  sympathy  between  man  and  God. 
Just  as  a  man  tells  his  secret  only  to  his  friends,  knowing  that  it 
would  often  be  unsafe,  and  at  other  times  impossible,  to  tell  it  to 
others ;  and  just  as  they,  knowing  his  great  aim  and  motive,  can 
make  more  of  a  nod  or  look  or  word  than  others  can  of  a  lengthened 
statement ;  so  God  reveals,  as  He  did  to  Abraham  His  friend  in 
the  matter  of  Sodom's  destruction,  the  depth  of  His  mind  and  will 
to  them  who  fear  Him,  and  who  by  fearing  Him  have  been  made 
like  Him ;  and  they,  loving  in  general  as  God  loves,  and  hating  in 
general  as  God  hates,  enter  as  others  cannot  into  the  meaning  and 
spirit  of  God's  declarations.^ 

II. 

Character. 

1.  God  unveils  His  character  by  entering  into  friendly  relations 
with  man.  It  is  always  a  sign  of  deepening  friendship  when 
people  begin  to  open  their  inner  rooms  to  us.  To  be  made  the 
depositary  of  a  rare  secret  is  to  be  sealed  as  a  friend.  When  any 
one  tells  us  a  secret  joy,  it  is  a  mark  of  intimacy ;  when  any  one 
unveils  to  us  a  secret  grief,  it  is  a  proof  of  the  closest  fellowship. 
When  we  are  taken  from  the  suburbs  of  a  man's  being  to  the 
centre,  it  is  a  proof  of  an  enriching  communion.  "  No  longer  do 
I  call  you  servants ;  but  I  have  called  you  friends  ;  for  all  things 

^  J.  B.  Johnston,  The  Ministry  of  Reconciliation ,  335. 


PSALM  XXV.  14 


II 


that  I  heard  from  my  Father  I  have  made  known  unto  you." 
Is  there  not  something  tenderly  suggestive  in  the  word  which 
tells  us  that  "  when  they  were  alone,  he  expounded  unto  them  "  ? 
When  He  had  His  familiar  friends  to  Himself,  He  told  them  His 
secrets  and  showed  them  His  covenant. 

Are  these  the  tracks  of  some  unearthly  Friend, 
His  foot-prints,  and  his  vesture-skirts  of  light, 
Who,  as  I  talk  with  men,  conforms  aright 
Their  sympathetic  words,  or  deeds  that  blend 
With  my  hid  thought; — or  stoops  him  to  attend 
My  doubtful-pleading  grief; — or  blunts  the  might 
Of  ill  I  see  not ; — or  in  dreams  of  night 
Figures  the  scope,  in  which  what  is  will  end? 
Were  I  Christ's  own,  then  fitly  might  I  call 
That  vision  real ;  for  to  the  thoughtful  mind 
That  walks  with  Him,  He  half  unveils  His  face; 
But  when  on  earth-stain'd  souls  such  tokens  fall. 
These  dare  not  claim  as  theirs  what  there  they  find. 
Yet,  not  all  hopeless,  eye  His  boundless  grace.^ 

2.  Fellowship  with  God  is  the  secret  of  the  highest  character 
in  man.  If  a  man  admires,  reveres  and  attaches  himself  to  any 
one,  he  is  naturally  led  to  imitate  him  ;  and  the  tendency  of  all 
worship  is  to  make  a  man  like  his  God.  The  deities  of  heathen- 
dom are  the  product  of  the  vain  imaginations,  unholy  passions 
and  guilty  fears  of  their  votaries,  and  the  contemplation  of  them 
continues  to  quicken  the  foul  source  whence  they  have  issued. 
The  sins  as  well  as  the  sorrows  of  those  who  follow  after  other  gods 
are  multiplied.  And  the  worshippers  of  the  true  God  are,  in 
accordance  with  this  principle  of  our  nature,  brought  to  godliness, 
induced  and  taught  to  love  and  hate,  to  approve  and  condemn, 
according  to  the  perfect  model.  In  every  one  that  fears  God, 
there  is  a  real  and  growing  assimilation. 

^  Some  words  of  Kingsley's  written  in  1872,  in  which  he 
defines  a  "  noble  fear "  as  one  of  the  elements  of  that  lofty  and 
spiritual  love  which  ruled  his  own  daily  life,  may  explain  why  he 
speaks  of  entering  the  married  state  with  "  solemn  awe  and  self- 
humiliation,"  and  why  he  looked  upon  such  married  Love  as  the 
noblest  education  a  man's  character  can  have :  "  Can  there  be 
true  love  without  wholesome  fear  ?    And  does  not  the  old  Eliza- 

*  J.  H.  Newman. 


12         THE  SECRET  OF  THE  LORD 

bethan  '  My  dear  dread '  express  the  noblest  voluntary  relation  in 
which  two  human  souls  can  stand  to  each  other  ?  Perfect  love 
casteth  out  fear.  Yes ;  but  where  is  love  perfect  among  imperfect 
beings,  save  a  mother's  for  her  child  ?  For  all  the  rest,  it  is 
through  fear  that  love  is  made  perfect;  fear  which  bridles  and 
guides  the  lover  with  awe — even  though  misplaced — of  the  beloved 
one's  perfections;  with  dread — never  misplaced — of  the  beloved 
one's  contempt.  And  therefore  it  is  that  souls  who  have  the  germ 
of  nobleness  within,  are  drawn  to  souls  more  noble  than  them- 
selves, just  because,  neediug  guidance,  they  cling  to  one  before 
whom  they  dare  not  say,  or  do,  or  even  think  an  ignoble  thing. 
And  if  these  higher  souls  are — as  they  usually  are — not  merely 
formidable,  but  tender  likewise,  and  true,  then  the  influence  which 
they  may  gain  is  unbounded — both  to  themselves,  and  to  those 
that  worship  them."  ^ 

3.  To  enjoy  this  fellowship  we  must  "fear"  the  Lord.  In 
order  to  read  any  one's  secret  we  must  respect  him.  You  cannot 
show  the  real  secret  of  your  life,  the  spring  and  power  of  your 
living,  to  any  man  who  does  not  respect  you.  Not  merely  you 
will  not,  but  you  cannot.  Is  it  not  so  ?  A  man  comes  with 
impertinent  curiosity  and  looks  in  at  your  door,  and  you  shut  it 
in  his  face  indignantly.  A  friend  comes  strolling  by  and  gazes  in 
with  easy  carelessness,  not  making  much  of  what  you  may  be 
doing,  not  thinking  it  of  much  importance,  and  before  him  you 
cover  up  instinctively  the  work  which  was  serious  to  you,  and 
make  believe  that  you  were  only  playing  games.  So  it  is  when 
men  try  to  get  hold  of  the  secret  of  your  life.  No  friendship,  no 
kindliness,  can  make  you  show  it  to  them  unless  they  evidently 
really  feel  as  you  feel,  that  it  is  a  serious  and  sacred  thing.  There 
must  be  something  like  reverence  or  awe  about  the  way  that  they 
approach  you.  It  is  the  way  in  which  children  shut  themselves 
up  before  their  elders  because  they  know  their  elders  have  no 
such  sense  as  they  have  of  the  importance  of  their  childish 
thoughts  and  feelings. 

^1  You  must  believe  that  there  is  something  deep  in  nature  or 
you  will  find  nothing  there.  You  must  have  an  awe  of  the 
mystery  and  sacredness  in  your  fellow-man,  or  his  mystery  and 
sacredness  will  escape  you.  And  this  sense  of  mystery  and 
sacredness  is  what  we  gather  into  that  word  "fear."    It  is  the 

^  Charles  KingsUy,  i.  154. 


PSALM  XXV.  14 


13 


feeling  with  which  you  step  across  the  threshold  of  a  great  deserted 
temple  or  into  some  vast  dark  mysterious  cavern.  It  is  not  terror. 
That  would  make  one  turn  and  run  away.  Terror  is  a  blinding 
and  deafening  emotion.  Terror  shuts  up  the  apprehension.  You 
do  not  get  at  the  secret  of  anything  which  frightens  you,  but  fear, 
as  we  use  the  word  now,  is  quite  a  different  emotion.  It  is  a  large, 
deep  sense  of  the  majesty  and  importance  of  anything,  a  reverence 
and  respect  for  it.  Without  that  no  man  can  understand  another. 
And  so  "  the  secret  of  a  man  is  with  them  that  fear  him."  ^ 

^  We  have  listened  to  some  sweet  melody,  and  we  cannot 
escape  from  its  gracious  thraldom.  It  pervades  the  entire  day. 
It  interweaves  itself  with  all  our  changing  affairs.  We  hear  it  in 
our  work  and  in  our  leisure ;  when  we  retire  to  rest  and  when  we 
awake.  It  haunts  us.  The  analogy  may  help  us  to  some  appre- 
hension of  what  is  meant  by  the  fear  of  God.  The  man  who  fears 
God  is  haunted  by  God's  presence.  God  is  an  abiding  conscious- 
ness. God  is  "continually  before  him."  Everything  is  seen  in 
relationship  to  God.  The  Divine  presence  pervades  the  mind  and 
shapes  and  colours  the  judgment.  Here  are  two  descriptions  from 
the  Word  of  God,  in  the  contrast  of  which  the  meaning  will  be 
made  quite  clear.  "  God  is  not  in  all  his  thoughts."  The  Eternal 
does  not  haunt  his  mind.  Everything  is  secularized,  and  nothing 
is  referred  to  the  arbitrament  of  the  Divine  Will.  He  is  not  God- 
possessed.  "  Pray  without  ceasing."  Here  is  the  contrasted  mind, 
from  which  the  sense  of  God  is  never  absent.  Like  an  air  of 
penetrating  music  the  Divine  presence  pervades  the  exercise  of 
all  his  powers.  He  is  God-haunted,  and  in  the  consciousness  of 
that  presence  he  lives  and  moves  and  has  his  being.  He  fears 
God.2 

III. 

Happiness. 

1.  The  secret  of  happiness  is  love.  The  people  of  God  love 
Him,  and  He  loves  them;  their  habitual  feeling  is  that  their 
affection  and  gratitude  bear  no  proportion  to  the  greatness  of  His 
claims.  Like  the  penitent  disciple  who  had  had  much  forgiven, 
they  can  solemnly  appeal  to  His  omniscience  and  say,  "Lord, 
thou  knowest  all  things ;  thou  knowest  that  I  love  thee."  And 
He  loves  them  with  a  love  which  has  a  height  and  depth,  and 

^  Phillips  Brooks,  New  Starts  in  Life,  275. 

*  J.  H.  Jowett,  Brooks  by  th»  Traveller's  Way,  173. 


14         THE  SFXRET  OF  THE  LORD 

length  and  breadth  passing  knowledge — a  love  which  has  thrown 
open  to  them  the  book  of  Nature  that  their  eyes  might  be  filled 
with  its  beauty  and  their  souls  with  its  truth — a  love  which  sings 
sweet  songs  in  the  carol  of  the  bird,  in  the  murmur  of  the  brook, 
in  the  whispering  of  the  breeze,  and  in  the  joyous  music  of  the 
domestic  hearth — a  love  which  covers  the  earth  with  golden  grain, 
and  casts  abundance  into  the  lap  of  life — a  love  which  has  toiled, 
and  bled,  and  died  that  the  soul  of  man  might  be  taken  from  the 
spoiler  who  has  held  it  under  his  cruel  and  polluting  sway,  and 
be  brought  under  the  dominion  of  its  rightful  Lord  and  made 
fully  happy,  and  that  for  ever,  in  His  fellowship. 

^  He  looked  out  on  the  world  through  the  eyes  of  Love,  and 
that  is  why  it  was  to  him  ever  beautiful  in  its  infinite  variety, 
and  in  its  amazing  friendliness.  He  lived  to  be  seventy-one  as 
the  world  counts  years,  but  even  then  he  was  Youth  and  Joy — in 
the  best  sense  of  the  word  he  refused  to  grow  up.^ 

^  Though  Mr.  Paynter  was  a  deeply  spiritual  man,  there  was 
nothing  in  his  life  or  speech  to  suggest  gloom ;  certainly  there 
was  not  in  his  looks.  Many  a  laugh  have  we  had  together,  over 
some  amusing  incident  or  story,  in  the  lighter  interludes  of  life  ; 
and  though  he  himself  rarely  told  a  story,  yet  sometimes  he  would 
make  a  "  dry "  remark,  which  showed  that  the  sense  of  humour 
was  not  absent.  He  was  a  happy  man — happy  in  all  the  domes- 
ticities of  his  home  and  family  life — happy  among  his  flowers — 
happy  in  his  work — happy  always  in  doing  good  to  others,  and  all 
because  he  was  happy  in  God,  and  had  learned  what  St.  Paul 
meant  when  he  said,  "  All  things  are  yours."  ^ 

Just  to  recollect  His  love, 

Always  true; 
Always  shining  from  above, 

Always  new. 
Just  to  recognize  its  light 

All-enfolding ; 
Just  to  claim  its  present  might, 

All-upholding. 
Just  to  know  it  as  thine  own, 

That  no  power  can  take  away. 
Is  not  this  enough  alone 

For  the  gladness  of  the  day  ?  ^ 

*  Love  and  Life  :  The  Story  of  J.  Denholm  Brash  (1913),  8. 

2  S.  M.  Nugent,  Life  Radiant :  Memorials  of  the  Rev.  F.  Paynter,  228. 

3  F.  R.  Havergal. 


PSALM  XXV.  14 


15 


2.  We  learn  the  secret  of  happiness  as  we  try  to  express  our 
love  in  noble  character  and  unselfish  conduct.  Men  are  so  con- 
stituted that  obedience  is  its  own  reward.  There  is  no  delight  so 
deep  and  true  as  the  delight  of  doing  the  will  of  Him  whom  we 
love.  There  is  no  blessedness  like  that  of  the  increasing  com- 
munion with  God  and  of  the  clearer  perception  of  His  will  and 
mind  which  follow  obedience  as  surely  as  the  shadow  follows  the 
sunshine.  There  is  no  blessedness  like  the  glow  of  approving 
conscience,  the  reflection  of  the  smile  on  Christ's  face. 

To  have  the  heart  in  close  communion  with  the  very  Fountain 
of  all  good,  and  the  will  in  harmony  with  the  will  of  the  best 
Beloved ;  to  hear  the  Voice  that  is  dearest  of  all  ever  saying, 
"  This  is  the  way,  walk  ye  in  it " ;  to  feel  "  a  spirit  in  my  feet " 
impelling  me  upon  that  road ;  to  know  that  all  my  petty  deeds 
are  made  great,  and  my  stained  offerings  hallowed  by  the  altar  on 
which  they  are  honoured  to  lie ;  and  to  be  conscious  of  fellowship 
with  the  Friend  of  my  soul  increased  by  obedience — this  is  to 
taste  the  keenest  joy  and  good  of  life,  and  he  who  is  thus 
"  blessed  in  his  deed  "  need  never  fear  that  that  blessedness  will 
be  taken  away,  or  sorrow  though  other  joys  be  few  and  griefs  be 
many. 

^  To  Florence  Nightingale,  communion  with  the  Unseen 
meant  something  deeper,  richer,  fuller,  more  positive  than  the  fear 
of  God.  The  fear  of  God  is  the  beginning,  but  not  the  end,  of 
wisdom,  for  perfect  love  casteth  out  fear.  It  was  for  the  love  of 
God  as  an  active  principle  in  her  mind,  constraining  all  her  deeds, 
that  she  strove.^ 

^  The  income  from  his  books  and  other  sources,  which  might 
have  been  spent  in  a  life  of  luxury  and  selfishness,  he  distributed 
lavishly  where  he  saw  it  was  needed,  and  in  order  to  do  this  he 
always  lived  in  the  most  simple  way.  To  make  others  happy  was 
the  Golden  Kule  of  his  life.  On  August  31  he  wrote,  in  a  letter 
to  a  friend,  Miss  Mary  Brown :  "  And  now  what  am  I  to  tell  you 
about  myself  ?  To  say  I  am  quite  well  '  goes  without  saying ' 
with  me.  In  fact,  my  life  is  so  strangely  free  from  all  trial  and 
trouble  that  I  cannot  doubt  my  own  happiness  is  one  of  the 
talents  entrusted  to  me  to  'occupy'  with,  till  the  Master  shall 
return,  by  doing  something  to  make  other  lives  happy.''  2 

^  Sir  Edward  Cook,  The  Life  of  Florence  Nightingale,  i.  50. 

*  S,  D,  Collingwood,  The  Life  and  Letters  of  Lewis  Carroll,  325, 


i6         THE  SECRET  OF  THE  LORD 


3.  And  thus  we  are  brought  round  again  to  knowledge. 
For  the  final  verdict  upon  the  realities  of  religion  rests  not 
with  the  highest  intellect,  but  with  the  purest  heart.  Humboldt 
tells  that  the  Arab  guide  employed  in  one  of  his  desert  journeys 
had  such  a  keen  and  highly  trained  power  of  vision  that  he  could 
see  the  moons  of  Jupiter  without  a  telescope,  and  that  he  gave 
the  date  when  one  of  those  moons  was  eclipsed,  a  date  afterwards 
verified  by  the  traveller  on  his  return  to  Europe.  The  watch- 
maker, the  line-engraver,  the  microscopist,  who  for  years  have 
been  poring  over  minute  objects  a  few  inches  from  the  face,  could 
not  emulate  the  feat  of  the  Arab  whose  eye  had  been  trained  for 
a  lifetime  by  use  in  the  desert,  and  might  potsibly  doubt  the  fact. 
In  that  respect  the  man  of  science  himself,  with  his  wide  know- 
ledge, exact  observation,  many  accomplishments,  was  inferior  to 
his  unlettered  guide.  A  devout  soul  seeks  wistfully  after  God, 
accustoms  its  faculties  to  discern  and  interpret  His  signs,  and 
acquires  a  vision  penetrative  beyond  that  of  his  neighbour. 

•[J  In  one  of  his  saddest  poems — in  the  series  entitled  "  Men  and 
Women  " — Browning  tells  the  story  of  Andrea  del  Sarto,  who  was 
called  the  faultless  painter  of  Florence.    In  his  youth  he  had 
loved  and  married  a  woman  of  rare  and  radiant  beauty.  He 
rendered  to  her  an  almost  worshipping  homage.    He  longed  to 
lift  her  to  the  high  plane  of  thought  and  desire  and  holy  ambition 
on  which  he  moved.    But  she  was  a  shallow,  thin-natured,  mean- 
souled  woman.    She  was  the  woman  who  smeared  with  a  careless 
fling  of  her  skirt  the  picture  he  had  painted  in  hours  of  spiritual 
ecstasy.    She  was  the  woman  who  craved  him  for  his  hard-earned 
money  that  she  might  spend  it  at  the  gaming-table  with  her 
dissolute  companions.    Browning  sets  down  the  tragedy  of  their 
years  with  his  usual  unerring  insight.    It  was  not  that  she  dis- 
appointed him,  robbed  his  hand  of  its  power,  dulled  his  mind, 
shadowed  his  heart,  and,  as  he  foresaw,  would  sully  his  fame.  It 
was  this  more  piteous  thing,  that  he  could  not  disclose  himself  to 
her.    She  was  not  able  to  see  and  to  understand  him  at  his 
highest  and  noblest.    She  never  discerned  the  moral  majesty  of 
his  mind  or  the  spiritual  hunger  of  his  heart.    The  poet  sets  the 
sorrow  of  it  all  in  a  sigh,  which  is  the  climax  of  his  story. 
But  had  you — oh,  with  the  same  perfect  brow, 
And  perfect  eyes,  and  more  than  perfect  mouth. 
And  the  low  voice  my  soul  hears,  as  a  bird 
The  fowler's  pipe,  and  follows  to  the  snare — 
Had  you,  with  these  the  same,  but  brought  a  mind ! 


PSALM  XXV.  14 


Lover  he  was,  with  the  lover's  secret,  but  she  brought  no  mind, 
and  the  lover's  secret  she  never  knew.  For  the  lover's  secret  is 
only  with  them  that  fear.^ 

4.  The  nearer  we  live  to  Christ,  the  further  shall  we  see  into 
the  Unseen  and  discern  the  secret  of  God.  The  vision  of  the 
godly  man,  like  that  of  the  prophet  at  Bethel,  pierces  into  the 
unseen,  and  he  is  sensible  of  things  to  which  others  are  blind.  If 
he  cannot  envisage  horses  and  chariots  of  fire,  the  vindicating 
ministries  of  the  covenant,  he  can  read  the  terms  of  the  covenant 
in  letters  clear  as  the  stars,  and  these  revelations  are  enough,  and 
assure  as  perfectly  as  glimpses  of  the  hosts  God  leads.  Doubts 
and  misgivings  are  dispelled  by  spiritual  insight.  In  the  things 
which,  to  a  worldly  mind,  suggest  the  anger  of  Heaven,  he  is  made 
to  see  occasions  which  discipline  the  character  into  higher  fitness 
for  receiving  the  awaiting  blessings  of  an  immutable  covenant. 

1[  For  many  years  a  lady  made  her  livelihood  by  taking 
Greenwich  time  round  to  the  jewellers'  shops  in  the  small  towns 
to  the  west  of  London.  She  was  the  daughter  of  a  watchmaker, 
and  possessed  an  excellent  chronometer  which  had  been  be- 
queathed by  her  father.  When  necessary,  the  authorities  of  the 
Observatory  kindly  regulated  it.  Every  Friday  she  went  to 
Greenwich,  got  the  standard  time,  and  carried  it  to  her  clients, 
who  paid  a  small  fee  for  the  service  rendered.  She  belonged  to 
the  old  dispensation,  and  may  stand  for  one  of  its  types.  Many 
provincial  towns,  and  even  private  firms  of  watchmakers,  are  now 
in  direct  electric  connexion  with  Greenwich,  and  get  the  standard 
time  every  day.  ...  In  the  United  States  of  America,  every  post 
office  is  linked  with  the  Observatory  at  Washington.  Under  the 
earlier  Covenant,  men  who  wished  to  learn  of  the  things  of  God 
had  to  avail  themselves  of  the  ministries  of  the  prophets,  or  sit  at 
the  feet  of  scholars,  whose  office  it  was  to  interpret  the  books  of 
the  law.  But  under  the  New  Covenant  the  regenerate  soul  is 
brought  into  direct  contact  with  God,  and  acquires  Divine  wisdom, 
not  by  listening  to  a  neighbour,  but  by  heeding  swift  inward 
impressions  wrought  by  the  wonderful  Spirit  of  God.^ 

Love  touch'd  my  eyes — these  eyes  which  once  were  blind, 
And,  lo !  a  glorious  world  reveal'd  to  view, 

A  world  I  ne'er  had  dream'd  so  fair  to  find. 
I  sang  for  gladness — all  things  were  made  new. 

1  W.  M.  Clow,  The  Secret  of  the  Lcyrd,  10. 
«  T.  G.  Selby,  The  Divine  Craftsman,  175. 
PS.  XXV.-CXIX. — 2 


i8         THE  SECRET  OF  THE  LORD 


'Twas  Love  unstopp'd  my  ears,  and  every  sound 

Borne  through  the  silence  seem'd  a  psalm  of  praise: 

Bird-song,  child-laughter — yet  o'er  all  I  found 
Thy  voice  the  music  of  my  happy  days. 

Love  chang'd  life's  draught  and  made  the  water  wine, 
And  through  my  languid  senses  seem'd  to  flow 

Some  pow'r  enkindled  by  the  fire  divine, 
Some  inspiration  I  can  ne'er  forego. 

Love  rais'd  the  dead  to  life — and  never  more 
Can  many  waters  quench  th'  eternal  flame. 

Love  open'd  wide  the  everlasting  door, 
And  bade  us  enter,  called  by  His  name.^ 

^  Una,  In  Life's  Garden^  6. 


Waiting  Courageously. 


«9 


/ 


Literature. 

Bright  (W.),  Morality  in  Doctrine^  115. 

Craig  (R.),  Bock  Plants  with  Gospel  Roots,  27. 

Dyke  (H.  van),  Manhood,  Faith  and  Courage,  53. 

Jowett  (J.  H.),  From  Strength  to  Strength,  65. 

Maclaren  (A.),  Creed  and  Conduct,  15. 

Newman  (J.  H.),  Sermons  on  Subjects  of  the  Day,  47. 

Spurgeon  (C.  H.),  Morning  by  Morning,  243. 

„  „      Metropolitan  Tabernacle  Pulpit,  xxiii.  (1877),  No.  1371. 

Steel  (T.  H.),  Sermons  in  Harrow  Chapel,  315. 
Vauglian  (J.),  Sermons  in  Christ  Church,  Brighton,  2nd  Ser.,  51. 
Wynne  (G.  R.),  In  Quietness  and  Confidence,  50. 

Christian  World  Pulpit,  xliv.  321  (C.  S.  Home) ;  liii.  136  (H.  Black)  ;  Ivii. 

27  (J.  G.  Rogers)  ;  Iviii.  401  (J.  H.  Jowett). 
Church  of  England  Magazine,  xxxiv.  168  (R.  W.  Dale). 
Church  of  England  Pulpit,  Ix.  286  (C.  Wordswortli). 
Churchman's  Pulpit :  Sermons  to  the  Young,  xvi.  406  (R.  G.  Scans). 
Twentieth  Century  Pastor,  xxx.  20  (A.  B.  Macaulay). 


Waiting  Courageously. 


Wait  on  the  Lord  : 

Be  strong,  and  let  thine  heart  take  courage; 
Yea,  wait  thou  on  the  Lord. — Ps.  xxvii.  14. 

This  is  the  concluding  verse  of  a  psalm  which  glows  with  lofty 
faith,  and  yet  is  clouded  by  a  sense  of  depression.  The  magnificent 
opening,  with  its  fulness  of  glad,  exuberant  energy,  its  high-hearted 
disclaimer  of  all  fear  in  view  of  a  host  of  enemies,  and  its  fervid 
avowal  of  one  supreme  desire — to  dwell  in  the  Lord's  house  and 
to  gaze  upon  His  beauty — is  followed  up  by  entreaties  which 
represent  a  change  of  mood.  It  is  one  of  those  transitions  so 
common  in  the  Psalter,  which  make  it  so  truly  human  a  book. 
Acting  on  the  invitation,  "  Seek  ye  my  face,"  the  Psalmist  begs 
his  Lord  not  to  cast  him  away,  not  to  forsake  him  ;  he  describes 
himself  as  an  orphan  whom  God  will  adopt,  and  he  glances 
tremblingly  at  a  contingency  which  would  surely  have  over- 
whelmed him — 

What  if  no  faith  were  mine,  to  see 
Thy  love  in  realms  where  life  shall  be  ? 

But  the  psalm  goes  back  to  the  major  key  at  last,  and  in  the 
closing  verse  prayer  passes  into  self-encouragement.  The  heart 
that  spoke  to  God  now  speaks  to  itself.  Faith  exhorts  sense  and 
soul  to  "  wait  on  Jehovah."  The  self -communing  of  the  Psalmist, 
beginning  with  exultant  confidence  and  merging  into  prayer  thrilled 
with  consciousness  of  need  and  of  weakness,  closes  with  bracing 
him  up  to  courage,  which  is  not  presumption,  because  it  is  the 
fruit  of  waiting  on  the  Lord.  He  who  thus  keeps  his  heart  in  touch 
with  God  will  be  able  to  obey  the  ancient  command,  which  had 
rung  so  long  before  in  the  ears  of  Joshua  and  is  never  out  of  date, 
"  Be  strong  and  of  a  good  courage  " ;  and  none  but  those  who  wait 
on  the  Lord  will  be  at  once  conscious  of  weakness  and  filled  with 
strength,  aware  of  the  foes  and  bold  to  meet  them. 

ai 


22  WAITING  COURAGEOUSLY 


I. 

Watting. 

The  word  "  walk  "  describes  almost  the  whole  of  Christian  life, 
and  so  does  this  word  "  wait "  ;  for,  rightly  understood,  waiting  is 
active  as  well  as  passive,  energetic  as  well  as  patient,  and  to  wait 
upon  the  Lord  necessitates  as  much  courage  as  warring  and 
fighting  with  enemies.  It  may  seem  an  easy  thing  to  wait,  but 
it  is  one  of  the  postures  which  a  Christian  soldier  learns  only 
with  years  of  teaching.  Marching  and  quick-marching  are  much 
easier  to  God's  warriors  than  standing  still.  There  are  hours  of 
perplexity  when  the  most  willing  spirit,  anxiously  desirous  to 
serve  the  Lord,  knows  not  what  part  to  take.  Then  what  shall 
it  do  ?  Vex  itself  by  despair  ?  Fly  back  in  cowardice,  turn  to 
the  right  hand  in  fear,  or  rush  forward  in  presumption  ?  No,  but 
simply  wait. 

^  The  English  Prayer-Book  version  of  the  Psalms  gives  a 
quaint  but  beautiful  rendering  of  the  phrase  "  Wait  on  the  Lord." 
It  runs,  "  0  tarry  thou  the  Lord's  leisure."  This  rendering  brings 
out  the  exact  meaning  of  the  word  "  wait,"  which  we  have  inter- 
larded and  lost  sight  of  by  making  it  mean  such  things — and 
legitimately  enough — as  prayer.  It  just  means  "  wait."  Wait 
for  Him  as  you  would  wait  at  the  trysting-place  for  a  friend 
who  does  not  come.  Wait  for  Him,  and  wait,  and  wait  until  He 
does  come.^ 

When  He  appoints  to  meet  thee,  go  thou  forth. 

It  matters  not 
If  south  or  north. 

Bleak  waste  or  sunny  plot. 
Nor  think,  if  haply  He  thou  seek'st  be  late, 

He  does  thee  wrong; 
To  stile  or  gate 

Lean  thou  thy  head,  and  long! 
It  may  be  that  to  spy  thee  He  is  mounting 

Upon  a  tower. 
Or  in  thy  counting 

Thou  hast  mista'en  the  hour. 

»  Hugh  Black. 


PSALM  XXVII.  14 


23 


But,  if  He  come  not,  neither  do  thou  go 

Till  Vesper  chime ; 
Belike  thou  then  shalt  know 

He  hath  been  with  thee  all  the  time.^ 

1.  Let  us  wait  with  faith.  It  is  faith  that  secures  the  Divine 
blessing — persistent,  expectant  faith.  He  cannot  be  said  to  wait 
upon  God  who  disbelieves  that  God  will  come  to  his  aid,  or  who 
doubts  whether  He  will.  Loitering  about  to  see  if  anything  will 
turn  up  is  not  the  same  thing,  by  any  means,  as  waiting  for  a 
particular  person  to  appear,  or  a  particular  event  to  happen. 
Faith  and  expectation  characterize  the  latter  condition  as  distinct 
from  the  former.  And  these  qualities  belong  to  the  very  nature  of 
the  exercise  of  "  waiting  on  God."  The  more  unwavering  a  man's 
faith  is,  in  fact,  and  the  higher  he  stretches  on  tiptoe  of  expecta- 
tion, the  more  accurately  may  he  be  described  as  a  man  waiting 
on  God.  "  My  soul,"  cries  the  Psalmist,  "  waiteth  for  the  Lord 
more  than  they  that  watch  for  the  morning."  How  eager  he 
represents  himself  to  be  by  that  figure  of  the  anxious  watchers 
scanning  the  eastern  skies  for  signs  of  daybreak !  And  how  con- 
fident, too !  For  more  surely  than  the  sun  shall  climb  up  over 
the  horizon  and  dispel  the  shadows  of  night,  his  God,  he  believes, 
shall  cause  His  face  to  shine  upon  him.  His  God  and  our  God — 
it  is  not  to  immensity  or  infinity,  or  some  dimly  comprehended 
and  overwhelming  attribute,  precariously  personified,  that  we 
look  up  for  help  and  a  response  to  our  supplications.  It  is  to  the 
living,  self-revealing  God,  who  hath  "  of  old  time  spoken  unto  the 
fathers  in  the  prophets,"  and  who  "  hath  at  the  end  of  these  days 
spoken  unto  us  in  his  Son." 

^  There  is  a  school  of  philosophy,  much  current  in  our  day, 
which  tells  us  that  religious  truth  is  relative  to  the  individual ; 
the  way  to  test  a  religion  is  to  live  it.  If  the  philosophy  of  the 
pragmatists  be  right,  then  few  forms  of  religious  creed  can  claim 
better  witness  to  their  truth  than  that  wherein  Florence  Nightin- 
gale lived  and  moved  and  had  her  being.  She  had  "  remodelled 
her  whole  religious  belief  from  beginning  to  end,"  and  had  "  learnt 
to  know  God"  in  the  years  immediately  preceding  her  active 
work  in  the  world.  Her  belief  helped  to  sustain  her  natural 
courage  amidst  the  horrors  of  Scutari,  and  the  fever  and  the  cold 
of  Balaclava.    It  inspired  the  life  of  arduous  labour  to  which  she 

1  T.  E.  Brown,  Old  John  and  Other  Poems,  244 


WAITING  COURAGEOUSLY 


devoted  herself  on  returning  from  the  East.  It  informed  her 
unceasing  efforts  for  the  health  of  the  Army  and  the  people,  for 
the  reformation  of  hospitals,  for  the  creation  of  an  art  of  nursing. 
Does  some  one  doubt  whether  any  vital  force  can  have  proceeded 
from  a  belief  in  Law  as  the  Thought  of  God,  and  suggest  that  to 
herself  as  to  others  she  was  offering  a  stone  instead  of  bread  ?  It 
was  not  so.  To  her  the  religion  which  she  found  was  as  the 
body  and  blood  of  the  Most  High.^ 

^  In  the  early  spring  of  1881  Captain  Catherine  Booth  and 
her  intrepid  lieutenants,  Florence  Soper,  Adelaide  Cox,  and  Euth 
Patrick,  began  life  in  Paris.  With  her  own  hand  Catherine 
raised  the  flag  at  Kue  d'Angouleme  66,  in  Belleville.  Here  was 
a  hall  for  six  hundred,  situated  in  a  court  approached  by  a 
narrow  street.  The  bulk  of  the  audience  that  gathered  there 
night  after  night  were  of  the  artisan  class.  Some  were  young 
men  of  a  lower  type,  and  from  these  came  what  disturbance  there 
was.  The  French  sense  of  humour  is  keen,  and  there  were  many 
lively  sallies  at  the  expense  of  the  speakers  and  singers  on  the 
platform.  Meetings  were  held  night  after  night,  and  for  six 
months  the  Capitaine  was  never  absent  except  on  Saturdays. 
Those  were  days  of  fight,  and  she  fought,  to  use  her  own  phrase, 
like  "a  tiger.  She  had  to  fight  first  her  own  heart.  She  knew 
her  capacity,  and  God  had  done  great  things  through  her  in 
England.  The  change  from  an  audience  of  five  thousand  spell- 
bound hearers  in  the  circus  of  Leeds  to  a  handful  of  gibing 
ouvriers  in  the  Belleville  quarter  of  Paris  was  indeed  a  clashing 
antithesis.  A  fortnight  passed  without  a  single  penitent,  and 
Catherine  was  all  the  time  so  ill  that  it  was  doubtful  if  she  would 
be  able  to  remain  in  the  field.  That  fortnight  was  probably 
the  supreme  trial  of  her  faith.  The  work  appeared  so  hopeless  ! 
There  was  nothing  to  see.  But  for  the  Capitaine  faith  meant 
going  on.  It  meant  saying  to  her  heart,  "  You  may  suffer,  you 
may  bleed,  you  may  break,  but  you  shall  go  on."  She  went  on, 
believing,  praying,  fighting,  and  at  last  the  tide  of  battle  turned.^ 

2.  Let  us  wait  with  patience.  Patience  is  just  the  other  side 
and  the  practical  side  of  faith.  Faith  is  the  breath  of  life  to  the 
religious  man.  Without  faith  he  cannot  live.  But  there  may  be, 
and  there  often  is,  a  faith  which  is  extremely  lacking  in  patience, 
a  faith  which  is  even  impatient,  a  faith  which,  in  the  name  of  God, 
almost  rebukes  God  for  His  leisure  with  the  world,  and  with  the 

^  Sir  Edward  Cook,  The  Life  of  Florence  Nightingale,  i.  488. 
2  J.  Strahan,  The  MaHchale  (1913),  51. 


PSALM  XXVII.  14 


25 


Church,  and  with  ourselves.  We  know  it  to  be  a  Christian  duty 
to  be  patient  with  our  fellow-men ;  have  we  ever  thought  of  the 
necessity  and  the  duty  of  being  patient  with  God  ?  Let  us  have 
patience  with  God.  And  this  patience,  about  which  the  Bible  is 
full,  is  not  the  sickly,  complaining  counterfeit  of  it  which  we  often 
hear  of  under  the  name  of  patience ;  it  is  the  power  to  suffer,  the 
power  to  sacrifice,  the  power  to  endure,  the  power  to  die,  and,  if 
need  be,  sometimes  harder  as  it  is,  to  continue  to  live  for  His  sake. 
Let  us  wait  God's  time.  If  there  were  no  other  reason  why  we 
must  wait  God's  time,  this  is  one,  and  one  all-powerful — because  He 
knows  the  whole,  and  because  we  know  only  a  part.  The  Psalmist 
cries  out,  under  protracted  and  aggravated  trials, "  Lord,  how  long  ? " 
but  he  never  complains  or  murmurs,  "  Lord,  this  is  too  long  ! " 

^  It  is  worthy  of  remark  that  Bishop  King's  first  Charge 
elicited  warm  commendation  from  the  prelate  who,  of  all  the 
Bishops  at  that  time  on  the  Bench,  possessed  the  acutest  and 
most  vigorous  intellect.  Bishop  Magee,  of  Peterborough,  wrote 
on  November  28,  1886  :— 

"What  I  write  specially  to  thank  you  for  is  simply  one 
sentence  in  your  Charge — a  very  pregnant  one,  and  to  me,  I 
confess,  a  new  one — it  is, '  The  Soul  is  impatient  of  the  Mediatorial 
Kingdom.'  This  is  a  thought  which  runs  out  very  far  and  very 
deep  under  all  our  Christian  life.  The  '  mpatient,'  instead  of  the 
*  patient,  waiting  for  Christ,'  is  seen,  when  we  come  to  think  of  it, 
to  be  the  source  of  no  small  part  of  our  ecclesiastical  and  even  our 
personal  errors  and  troubles."  ^ 

Say,  did  impatience  first  impel 

The  heaven-sent  bond  to  break? 
Or,  couldst  thou  bear  its  hindrance  well, 

Loitering  for  Jesu's  sake  ? 

Oh,  might  we  know !  for  sore  we  feel 

The  languor  of  delay, 
When  sickness  lets  our  fainter  zeal, 

Or  foes  block  up  our  way. 

Lord !  who  Thy  thousand  years  dost  wait 

To  work  the  thousandth  part 
Of  Thy  vast  plan,  for  us  create 

With  zeal  a  patient  heart.^ 

*  G.  W.  E.  Russell,  Edward  King,  Bisliop  of  Lincoln,  122. 
^  J.  H.  Newman,  Verses  on  Various  Occasions, 


26  WAITING  COURAGEOUSLY 


3.  Let  us  wait  with  assurance.  According  to  our  English 
Versions,  the  62nd  Psalm  begins  with  the  words,  "  Truly  my  soul 
waiteth,"  or  "  My  soul  waiteth  only  upon  God."  The  adverbs  do 
not  matfer  at  present,  but  the  verb  does.  What  the  Psalmist 
actually  wrote,  as  we  can  see  from  the  word  which  he  used,  was, 
"  My  soul  is  silent  unto  God."  The  same  expression  occurs  else- 
where in  the  Old  Testament.  It  is  a  very  striking  one.  The 
condition  of  silence  before  God,  inward  silence,  with  every  fret 
and  murmur  and  disturbing  thought  hushed,  was  recognized  as 
the  condition  suitable  for  hearing  the  still  small  voice  of  the 
Eternal  One.  Those  that  achieved  it  were  rewarded.  And  have 
we  no  experiences  of  our  own  to  corroborate  the  testimony  of 
these  Old  Testament  writers  ?    Matthew  Arnold  tells  us  that — 

From  the  soul's  subterranean  depth  upborne 
As  from  an  infinitely  distant  land, 
Come  airs  and  floating  echoes  and  convey 
A  melancholy  into  all  our  day. 

But  other  airs  and  other  echoes  as  well  are  upborne  from  the 
depths  of  the  soul.  There  is  conveyed  into  the  day  of  the  soul 
that  waits  upon  God  and  is  silent  unto  Him  a  peace  and  a  quiet 
sense  of  assurance  that  passes  all  understanding.  Language 
cannot  describe  the  source  and  nature  of  these  inward  ministries 
of  strength  and  consolation,  but  the  soul  knows  that  God  has 
responded  to  its  waiting. 

^  "  Does  it  hurt  you  severely  ? "  one  asked  of  a  friend  who  lay 
with  a  broken  arm.  "  Not  when  I  keep  still,"  was  the  answer. 
This  is  the  secret  of  much  of  the  victoriousness  we  see  in  rejoicing 
Christians.  They  conquer  the  pain  and  the  bitterness  by  keeping 
still.  They  do  not  ask  questions,  or  demand  to  know  why  they 
have  trials.  They  believe  in  God,  and  are  so  sure  of  His  love  and 
wisdom  that  they  are  pained  by  no  doubt,  no  fear,  no  uncertainty. 
Peace  is  their  pillow,  because  they  have  learned  just  to  be  still. 
Their  quietness  robs  trial  of  its  sharpness,  sorrow  of  its  bitterness, 
death  of  its  sting,  and  the  grave  of  its  victory 

4.  Let  us  wait  with  prayer.  Let  us  call  upon  God  and  spread 
our  case  before  Him ;  tell  Him  our  difficulty,  and  plead  His 
promise  of  aid.  In  dilemmas  between  one  duty  and  another,  it  is 
sweet  to  be  humble  as  a  child,  and  to  wait  with  simplicity  of  soul 

1  J.  E.  Miller. 


PSALM  XXVII.  14 


27 


upon  the  Lord.  It  is  sure  to  be  well  with  us  when  we  feel  and 
know  our  own  folly,  and  are  heartily  willing  to  be  guided  by 
the  will  of  God.  Let  us  remember  that  God  has  always  loved 
intervals.  Intervals  there  are  generally,  if  not  always,  in  His 
best  dealings  with  His  children — intervals  before  He  bestows 
His  greatest  blessings,  intervals  before  He  answers  prayer.  And 
a  great  part  of  man's  education  lies  in  these  intervals.  The 
intellect  is  humbled,  the  heart  is  curbed,  faith  is  trained,  hopes 
are  pointed,  promises  are  sweetened,  God  is  magnified.  And  are 
they  not  the  growing  times  of  mercies — the  darkness  brought  in 
for  no  other  end  than  that  the  light  may  be  seen  in  it  ? 

^  By  prayer  we  link  ourselves  on  to  the  inexhaustible  riches 
of  God.  How  it  comes  that,  when  I  pull  a  switch  down  in  my 
study,  the  room  is  flooded  with  light  no  man  can  say,  save  that  by 
doing  so  I  have  linked  my  need  on  to  the  great  centre  of  light 
energy  in  the  town.  So,  all  that  we  can  say  about  those  who 
keep  their  hearts  open  towards  God  and  in  the  love  of  Christ  is 
that  by  this  means  they  link  their  weakness  on  to  the  grace  and 
strength  of  the  Eternal.  But,  mark  you,  the  electric  current  does 
not  break  into  my  room  of  itself  when  my  need  arises.  I  have  to 
make  a  way  for  it,  and  more,  /  have  to  keep  that  way  open} 

^  Prayer  was  the  white  flame  at  the  very  centre  of  his  life. 
To  the  throne  of  Grace,  with  unfailing  mindfulness  and  with 
childlike  simplicity,  he  would  bring,  day  by  day,  his  friends,  his 
people,  those  in  special  sorrow,  sickness,  or  sin;  so  filling  his 
petitions  with  engrossed  and  concentrated  intercession  for  them 
in  their  needs  that  he  became  wholly  forgetful  of  his  own.  Once, 
when  I  had  been  ill,  he  said  to  me,  I  have  prayed  for  you  night 
and  morning  for  five  months."  And  I  knew  that  it  was  true. 
In  his  long  life  it  was  true  of  thousands  of  others.  And  he 
believed,  with  such  intensity  and  simplicity  of  conviction  as  no 
man  can  ever  have  surpassed,  that  every  word  of  intercession  that 
he  uttered  went  straight  to  a  heavenly  Father's  ear,  and  found  an 
answering  chord  in  a  heavenly  Father's  heart.^ 

Unanswered  yet,  the  prayer  your  lips  have  pleaded, 

In  agony  of  heart  these  many  years? 
Does  faith  begin  to  fail  ?    Is  hope  departing, 

And  think  you  all  in  vain  those  falling  tears? 
Say  not  the  Father  hath  not  heard  your  prayer; 
You  shall  have  your  desire  sometime,  somewhere. 

^  Archibald  Alexander. 

*  Frances  Balfour,  Dr.  MacOregor  of  St.  Cvihberis,  632. 


28  WAITING  COURAGEOUSLY 


Unanswered  yet,  though  when  you  first  presented 
This  one  petition  at  the  Father's  Throne, 

It  seemed  you  could  not  wait  the  time  of  asking, 
So  urgent  was  your  heart  to  have  it  known  ? 

Though  years  have  passed  since  then,  do  not  despair ; 

The  Lord  will  answer  you  sometime,  somewhere. 

Unanswered  yet?    Nay,  do  not  say  ungranted ; 

Perhaps  your  part  is  not  yet  wholly  done; 
The  work  began  when  first  your  prayer  was  uttered, 

And  God  will  finish  what  He  has  begun. 
If  you  will  keep  the  incense  burning  there, 
His  glory  you  will  see  sometime,  somewhere. 

Unanswered  yet  ?  Faith  cannot  be  unanswered, 
Her  feet  are  firmly  planted  on  the  rock; 

Amid  the  wildest  storms  she  stands  undaunted. 
Nor  quails  before  the  loudest  thunder  shock. 

She  knows  Omnipotence  has  heard  her  prayer. 

And  cries,  It  shall  be  done — sometime,  somewhere. 

5.  Let  us  wait  with  regularity.  The  most  prominent  feature 
of  our  waiting  is  too  often  its  spasmodic  character.  Now  and 
then  we  draw  near  to  God,  but  by  fits  and  starts,  with  long 
intervals  of  indifference  and  prayerlessness  between.  And  that 
is  just  about  as  hopeless  as  it  would  be  to  expect  to  keep  our- 
selves clean  by  bathing  once  a  week.  Daily  our  strength  drains 
away,  both  physical  and  spiritual,  and  as  the  one  must  constantly 
be  replenished,  so  must  the  other.  Even  earnest  bursts  of  effort 
at  intervals  do  not  count  for  anything  like  so  much  as  the  quiet, 
constant  keeping  in  the  love  of  God.  Volcanic  eruptions  have 
done  something  to  transform  the  earth's  surface,  but  not  nearly  so 
much,  geologists  tell  us,  as  the  quiet,  constant  forces,  the  sun,  the 
rain,  frost,  heat,  and  wind.  And  it  is  by  the  regular  daily  waiting, 
far  more  than  by  the  infrequent  upheaval  of  desire,  that  the 
power  of  God  and  the  likeness  of  Christ  pass  slowly  but  visibly 
into  the  lives  of  His  people.  It  is  the  daily  meeting  with  God  in 
spirit,  the  daily  thought  of  one's  humble  task  as  God's  call  to  us 
to  serve  Him,  the  daily  sense  that  we  are  His  children,  destined 
and  called  in  Christ  to  fellowship  with  Him,  the  sense  that  we 
are  not  alone  in  our  little  corner,  but  that  He  is  all  about  us,  so 
that  we  live  and  move  and  have  our  being  in  Him,  like  islands  in 


PSALM  XXVII.  14 


29 


some  great  sea — it  is  that,  repeated  and  continued  till  it  becomes 
the  habit  of  the  spirit,  that  transfigures  life  and  lifts  it  to 
blessedness  and  power. 

^  It  is  related  of  Schwabe  the  German  astronomer  that, 
wishing  to  determine  the  relation  between  sun-spots  and  earth- 
magnetism,  he  gave  himself  to  the  recording  of  the  varying 
appearances  of  the  sun's  surface.  For  forty-two  years  the  sun 
never  rose  a  single  morning  free  of  clouds  above  the  flat  horizon 
of  the  plain  at  Dessau  where  Schwabe  lived  but  his  patient 
telescope  was  there  to  confront  it !  The  man  of  science  believes 
in  Nature.  He  waits  for  it,  in  the  faith  that  it  is,  and  that  it  is 
the  rewarder  of  those  that  diligently  seek  it.  If  only  Christian 
people  would  realize  that  it  is  infinitely  more  worth  their  while 
to  wait  thus  patiently  upon  God,  what  wonders  of  Spirit-filled 
lives  we  should  see  !  ^ 

^  The  other  day  I  stumbled  across  a  little  book  in  which  he 
wrote  the  names  of  those  for  whom  he  prayed,  and  the  day  of  the 
week  on  which  he  interceded  for  them.  It  was  a  revelation — for 
one  would  have  thought  that  many  of  those  names  had  been 
forgotten  by  him  years  before.  There  is  a  great  unity  in  the  list ; 
they  all  sorely  needed  the  Divine  help.  He  also  prayed  daily  by 
name  for  the  members  of  his  family,  and  each  worker  of  our 
Church  on  the  Foreign  Field  was  remembered  by  him.  With 
the  map  before  him  he  interceded  for  the  many  nations  of  the 
world.2 


II. 

Courage. 

As  many  as  are  the  conflicts  and  perils  and  hardships  of  life, 
so  many  are  the  uses  and  the  forms  of  courage.  Courage  is 
necessary,  indeed,  as  the  protector  and  defender  of  all  the  other 
virtues.  Courage  is  the  standing  army  of  the  soul,  which  keeps 
it  from  conquest,  pillage,  and  slavery.  Unless  we  are  brave  we 
can  hardly  be  truthful,  or  generous,  or  just,  or  pure,  or  kind,  or 
loyal.  "  Few  persons,"  says  a  wise  observer,  "  have  the  courage  to 
appear  as  good  as  they  really  are."  You  must  be  brave  in  order 
to  fulfil  your  own  possibilities  of  virtue.    Courage  is  essential  to 

*  Archibald  Alexander. 

*  Love  cmd  Life :  The  Story  of  J.  Denholm  Brash^  65. 


WAITING  COURAGEOUSLY 


guard  the  best  qualities  of  the  soul,  and  to  clear  the  way  for  their 
action,  and  make  them  move  with  freedom  and  vigour. 

Courage,  an  independent  spark  from  Heaven's  throne, 
By  which  the  soul  stands  raised,  triumphant,  high,  alone; 
The  spring  of  all  true  acts  is  seated  here, 
As  falsehoods  draw  their  sordid  birth  from  fear. 

If  we  desire  to  be  good,  we  must  first  of  all  desire  to  be  brave, 
that  against  all  opposition,  scorn,  and  danger  we  may  move 
straight  onward  to  do  the  right. 

^  The  Eev.  Henry  Parnaby,  M.A.,  writes:  "Only  six  days  ago 
I  had  a  long  talk  with  the  surgeon  who  attended  Principal  Simon 
in  Liverpool  —  Dr.  Armour  —  and  he  told  me  something  very 
characteristic  of  the  old  Principal.  When  his  trouble  had  reached 
a  certain  stage,  Dr.  Armour  suggested  to  Dr.  Simon  that  by  a  very 
delicate  and  difficult  operation  he  could  be  cured.  The  operation, 
however,  was  attended  with  very  great  risk,  and  possibly  Dr. 
Simon  would  not  survive.  The  decision  was  left  to  him,  and  he 
took  a  week  to  think  over  it.  He  went  off  and  consulted  his 
family,  and  returned  a  week  later  to  announce  that  he  had  decided 
not  to  undergo  the  operation.  His  reason  was  this.  He  was  in 
such  dreadful  and  contmuous  pain  that  he  felt  he  would  go  into 
the  operation  with  eagerness,  because  it  promised  an  end  of  his 
trouble  either  by  cure  or  death.  He  felt  that  he  would  welcome 
this  as  an  end  of  his  pain,  and  that  therefore  he  would  be  dis- 
playing an  unwillingness  to  endure  the  purifying  pain  which  he 
accepted  as  a  means  of  spiritual  discipline  from  God.  Dr.  Armour 
assures  me  that  never  in  all  his  wide  experience  has  he  found 
another  patient  who  could  give  so  courageous  and  honourable  a 
reason  for  declining  to  undergo  an  operation.^ 

^  One  winter  night  the  Mar^chale  and  two  young  comrades, 
Blanche  Young  and  Kate  Patrick,  went  out  with  shawls  on  their 
heads,  and  made  their  way  to  one  of  the  boulevard  caf^s.  The 
leader  passed  the  door,  and  passed  it  again.  She  turned  to  her 
lieutenants  and  said,  "You  have  never  known  your  Mardchale 
till  now  ;  you  see  what  a  coward  she  is ! " 

"  'No,  no,  no  ! "  they  both  protested. 

At  last  she  put  her  hand  on  the  door,  pushed  it  open,  and  went 
in.  A  man  in  a  white  apron  was  selling  drink.  Going  up  to  him, 
she  said,  "  May  I  sing  something  ? " 

He  stared  open-mouthed. 

*  F.  J.  Powicke,  David  Wortlungton  Simon,  297. 


PSALM  XXVII.  14 


31 


Trembling  from  head  to  foot,  she  repeated,  "  I  should  like  to 
sing  something," 
Very  well ! " 
She  began : 

Le  ciel  est  ma  belle  patrie, 
Les  anges  y  font  leur  s^jour; 

Le  soldat  qui  lutte  et  qui  prie 
Y  sera  bientot  k  son  tour. 

While  she  sang,  Blanche  chimed  in  with  her  guitar  and  her 
second  voice.  As  they  proceeded,  the  smoking,  drinking,  and 
card-playing  ceased,  and  every  face  was  turned  towards  them. 
They  sang  on : 

En  marche,  en  marche, 
Soldats,  vers  la  patrie ! 
En  marche,  en  marche, 
Soldats,  vers  la  patrie ! 

When  they  had  finished  the  hymn,  the  Marechale  thanked 
her  audience,  adding  that  they  could  hear  her  again  at  Eue  Auber 
Hall ;  and  that  she  knew  a  Friend,  of  whom  she  wished  to  tell 
them.  As  she  and  her  comrades  turned  to  walk  out,  the  man  in 
the  white  apron  bowed,  as  if  they  had  done  him  a  service. 

"  May  I  come  another  time  ? "  said  the  Mardchale. 

"  Certainly,  Mademoiselle !  "  ^ 

1.  What  is  the  source  of  courage  ?  It  is  waiting  on  the  Lord. 
That  is  the  truest  and  deepest  source  of  courage.  To  believe  that 
He  is,  and  that  He  has  made  us  for  Himself ;  to  love  Him,  and 
give  ourselves  up  to  Him,  because  He  is  holy  and  true  and  wise 
and  good  and  brave  beyond  all  human  thought ;  to  lean  upon 
Him  and  trust  Him  and  rest  in  Him,  with  confidence  that  He  will 
never  leave  us  nor  forsake  us :  to  work  for  Him,  and  suffer  for 
His  sake,  and  be  faithful  to  His  service — that  is  the  way  to  learn 
courage.  Without  God  what  can  we  do  ?  We  are  frail,  weak, 
tempted,  mortal.  The  burdens  of  life  will  crush  us,  the  evils  of 
sin  will  destroy  us,  the  tempests  of  trouble  will  overwhelm  us, 
the  darkness  of  death  will  engulf  us.  But  if  we  are  joined  to 
God,  we  can  resist  and  endure  and  fight  and  conquer  in  His 
strength.  This  is  what  the  Psalmist  means  in  the  text,  "  Wait  on 
the  Lord;  be  of  good  courage,  and  he  shall  strengthen  thine 
heart." 

1  J.  Strahan,  The  Marechale  (1913),  114. 


WAITING  COURAGEOUSLY 


Had  we  the  strength  ! — Have  we  perhaps  the  strength, 

Who  have  all  else  beside?    Are  we  not  men? 

Is  not  the  Universe  our  dwelling-place? 

And  therefore  perfectly  in  truth  for  us 

Is  not  the  utmost  wholly  possible  ?  .  .  . 

O,  with  the  baffled  and  the  resolute 

Vanguard  of  liberal  humanity, — 

0  to  so  purge  our  lives  of  the  mild  hours, 

Our  hearts  of  humble  longings  and  meek  hopes, 

Our  minds  of  customs  and  credulities, 

That  we  may  find  the  days  wholly  fulfilled 

And  lightened  of  the  Spirit — all  the  days 

And  all  things  and  ourselves,  rich  and  revealed 

In  the  majestic  meanings  and  the  might 

And  passion  and  pure  purpose  of  the  soul !  ^ 

U  Torstensohn  was  one  of  the  generals  formed  in  the  school  of 
Gustavus  Adolphus.  To  him  that  great  commander  transmitted 
the  prosecution  of  the  Thirty  Years'  War.  Physically,  he  was 
so  shattered  and  dislocated  by  disease  and  deformity  that  he 
could  neither  walk  nor  ride  on  horseback.  He  had  to  be  carried 
at  the  head  of  his  forces  in  a  litter.  Yet  no  commander  of  his 
age  was  so  resistless  and  terrible  in  his  onset  and  so  invariably 
victorious.  Let  us  be  loath  to  accept  infirmity  as  an  excuse  for 
uselessness.  A  naturalist  asks :  •*  How  is  it  that  the  golden- 
crested  wren,  apparently  so  weak  and  helpless,  can  fly  right 
across  the  North  Sea  from  Norway  ? "  Because  God  knows  how  to 
fix  strange  energy  within  delicate  organisms.  Our  very  infirmities 
through  resolution  and  grace  may  give  us  special  efficacy.^ 

2.  How  does  waiting  on  God  sustain  our  courage  ? 

(1)  Our  heart  is  strengthened  by  waiting  upon  God,  because 
we  receive  a  mysterious  strength  through  the  incoming  of  the 
Eternal  Spirit  into  our  souls.  No  man  can  explain  this,  but 
many  of  us  know  what  it  is.  How  wonderfully  do  the  secret 
springs  of  omnipotence  break  into  the  feeble  soul  and  fill  it  with 
might  in  the  inner  man.  Through  the  sacred  anointing  of  the 
Holy  Ghost  we  have  been  made  to  shout  for  joy.  He  that  made 
us  has  put  His  hand  a  second  time  to  the  work,  and  restored  to  us 
the  joy  of  His  salvation,  filled  our  emptiness,  removed  our  weak- 
ness, and  triumphed  in  us  gloriously. 

^  G.  C.  Lodge,  Poems  and  Dramas,  ii.  137. 
a  W.  L.  Watkinson. 


PSALM  XXVII.  14 


33 


^  That  these  days  at  the  Keswick  Convention  in  1889  were  a 
turning-point  in  Mr.  Macgregor's  life,  there  is  not  the  smallest 
doubt.  That  they  made  his  later  ministry  what  it  was,  is  equally 
certain.  To  say  that  he  sometimes  appeared  to  claim  for  this 
experience  and  its  effects  more  than  the  facts  altogether  warranted, 
is  only  to  say  that,  though  remarkably  enlightened  and  strengthened 
by  God's  Spirit,  he  remained  a  fallible  human  being.  But  no  one 
who  knew  George  Macgregor,  either  as  a  man  or  a  minister,  before 
that  crisis  and  after  it,  could  question  that  he  found  then  a  new 
secret  of  strength  both  for  his  own  life  and  for  his  work.^ 

(2)  Waiting  upon  God  makes  men  grow  small,  and  dwarfs  the 
world  and  all  its  affairs,  till  we  see  their  real  littleness.  Set  your 
great  troubles  before  the  infinite  God,  and  they  will  dwarf  into 
such  little  things  that  you  will  never  notice  them  again.  "  He 
taketh  up  the  isles  as  a  very  little  thing,"  and  "  the  nations  are  as 
a  drop  of  a  bucket " ;  and  this  great  God  teaches  us  to  look  at 
earthly  things  in  the  same  light  as  He  does,  till,  though  the 
whole  world  should  be  against  us,  we  can  smile  at  its  rage.  Our 
worst  ills  are  utterly  despised  when  we  learn  to  measure  them  by 
the  line  of  the  Eternal. 

Sometimes  in  the  country  on  a  night  in  early  summer  you 
may  shut  the  cottage  door  to  step  out  into  an  immense  darkness 
which  palls  heaven  and  earth.  Going  forward  into  the  embrace 
of  the  great  gloom,  you  are  as  a  babe  swaddled  by  the  hands 
of  night  into  helpless  acquiescence.  Your  feet  tread  an  unseen 
path,  your  hands  grasp  at  a  void,  or  shrink  from  the  contact 
they  cannot  realize ;  your  eyes  are  holden ;  your  voice  would  die 
in  your  throat  did  you  seek  to  rend  the  veil  of  that  impenetrable 
silence. 

Shut  in  by  the  intangible  dark,  we  are  brought  up  against 
those  worlds  within  worlds  blotted  out  by  our  concrete  daily  life. 
The  working  of  the  great  microcosm  at  which  we  peer  dimly 
through  the  little  window  of  science;  the  wonderful,  breathing 
earth ;  the  pulsing,  throbbing  sap ;  the  growing  fragrance  shut  in 
the  calyx  of  to-morrow's  flower;  the  heart-beat  of  a  sleeping 
world  that  we  dream  that  we  know ;  and  around,  above,  and  inter- 
penetrating all,  the  world  of  dreams,  of  angels  and  of  spirits. 

It  was  this  world  which  Jacob  saw  on  the  first  night  of  his 
exile,  and  again  when  he  wrestled  in  Peniel  until  the  break  of 
day.  It  was  this  world  which  Elisha  saw  with  open  eyes  ;  which 
Job  knew  when  darkness  fell  on  him ;  which  Ezekiel  gazed  into 

^  Duncan  C.  Macgregor,  George  H.  C.  Macgregor,  111. 
PS.  xxv.-cxix. — 3 


34 


WAITING  COURAGEOUSLY 


from  his  place  among  the  captives;  which  Daniel  beheld  as  he 
stood  alone  by  the  great  river,  the  river  Hiddekel. 

For  the  moment  we  have  left  behind  the  realm  of  question 
and  explanation,  of  power  over  matter  and  the  exercise  of  bodily 
faculties ;  and  passed  into  darkness  alight  with  visions  we  cannot 
see,  into  silence  alive  with  voices  we  cannot  hear.  Like  helpless 
men  we  set  our  all  on  the  one  thing  left  us,  and  lift  up  our 
hearts,  knowing  that  we  are  but  a  mere  speck  among  a  myriad 
worlds,  yet  greater  than  the  sum  of  them ;  having  our  roots  in 
the  dark  places  of  the  earth,  but  our  branches  in  the  sweet  airs 
of  heaven.^ 

(3)  Nothing  can  give  us  greater  courage  than  a  sincere 
affection  for  our  Lord  and  His  work.  Courage  is  sure  to 
abound  where  love  is  fervent.  Look  among  the  mild  and  gentle 
creatures  of  the  brute  creation  and  see  how  bold  they  are  when 
once  they  become  mothers  and  have  to  defend  their  offspring. 
A  hen  will  fight  for  her  chicks,  though  at  another  time  she  is 
one  of  the  most  timid  of  birds.  Gilbert  White,  in  his  Natural 
History  of  Selhorne,  tells  of  a  raven  that  was  hatching  her 
young  in  a  tree.  The  woodman  began  to  fell  it,  but  there  she 
sat ;  the  blows  of  the  axe  shook  the  tree,  but  she  never  moved, 
and  when  it  fell  she  was  still  upon  her  nest.  Love  will  make 
the  most  timid  creature  strong ;  and  if  you  love  Christ  you  will 
defy  all  fear,  and  count  all  hazards  undergone  for  Him  to  be  your 
joy.  In  this  sense,  too,  perfect  love  casteth  out  fear  ;  it  "  hopeth 
all  things,  endureth  all  things,"  and  continues  still  to  wait  upon 
the  Lord. 

^  In  February  1894  she  had  two  of  the  finest  campaigns  of 
her  life — at  Havre  and  Kouen.  The  turbulent  beginning  at 
Havre  was  graphically  described  by  her  friend  the  Princess 
Malsoff,  who  accompanied  the  Marechale  in  order  to  have  a 
taste  of  the  vie  apostolique.  "  There  was  a  great  tumult  in  the 
'  Lyre  Havraise.'  The  Marechale  had  coipie  to  publish  the  word 
of  love  and  salvation.  An  immense  crowd  forced  itself  into  the 
hall,  and  who  would  have  dared  believe  that  they  had  all  come 
simply  to  present  the  world  with  the  most  scandalous,  the  most 
vulgar  and  odious  spectacle  that  one  can  imagine  ?  When  the 
Marechale  rose  with  great  dignity  and  calm  .  .  .  she  could  not 
make  herself  heard.  Every  word  was  interrupted  ;  one  could 
see  that  it  was  a  prepared  stroke.    One  might  imagine  oneself  to 

^  Michael  Faiiless,  The  Eoadmcnder,  86. 


I 


PSALM  XXVII.  14 


35 


be  in  an  asylum.  But  she  did  not  let  herself  be  discouraged  ;  she 
persevered ;  she  walked  straight  into  the  midst  of  the  infuriated 
crowd.  She  did  not  tame  these  wild  beasts,  but  she  came  out 
victorious  all  the  same.  Tall,  beautiful,  calm,  sustained  by  her 
divine  conviction  and  with  the  strength  of  a  great  heart,  she 
came  back  again  and  again — our  admirable  Marechale !  ...  In 
the  midst  of  this  infernal  and  ridiculous  tumult  a  few  dite  souls 
felt  a  noble  enthusiasm  for  this  young  woman  who  battled  alone 
against  a  hostile  and  wicked  crowd.  They  came  to  grasp  her 
hand,  to  express  their  admiration  for  her  and  their  shame  for 
those  who  had  broken  the  simplest  laws  of  hospitahty,  politeness, 
and  civilization.  Blessed  be  our  Marechale;  in  her  the  whole 
Arm6e  du  Salut  was  personified  that  night  in  its  strength,  its 
faith,  its  persevering  love."  ^ 

The  Master  knows  ;  He  can  but  see 
How  willingly,  how  joyfully 
I  would  within  His  vineyard  stay 
To  bear  the  burden  of  the  day. 
And  yet  He  bids  me  stand  apart 
With  folded  hands  and  longing  heart. 
I  see  at  morn  the  happy  throng 
Pass  by  my  door  with  jest  and  song. 
They  seem  so  glad,  they  seem  so  gay, 
So  ready  for  the  busy  day. 

And  when  at  eve  they  homeward  go 
Sometimes  with  weary  steps  and  slow. 
But  laden  with  the  sweet  new  wine. 
And  purple  clusters  of  the  vine. 
And  precious  sheaves  of  golden  grain 
To  recompense  their  toil  and  pain; 
But  that  the  Lord  doth  choose  for  me, 
I  fain  within  their  ranks  would  be. 

Yet  though  I  can  but  hope  and  wait, 

I  am  not  sad  or  desolate. 

For  every  day  with  bounty  free 

The  Master  bringeth  gifts  to  me. 

From  out  His  life  there  seems  to  shine 

A  wondrous  glory  into  mine. 

My  life  !  how  dark  and  how  unclean. 

How  poor  and  fruitless  has  it  been. 

1  J.  Stralian,  The  Marechale  (1913),  62. 


WAITING  COURAGEOUSLY 


But  sure  the  seed  He  planted  there 
That  should  have  grown  so  tall  and  fair 
Must  now,  at  last,  begin  to  spring 
Beneath  such  heavenly  nourishing. 

And  if,  perchance,  I  fail  to  see 
The  thought  of  God  concerning  me, 
I  leave  in  peace  my  fallow  field 
Till  love  divine  shall  make  it  yield. 
And  when  at  last  the  corn  and  wine 
Of  all  His  harvests  shall  be  mine, 
Then  shall  I  know,  or  soon,  or  late, 
They  also  serve  who  stand  and  wait. 


The  Transience  of  Sorrow. 


37 


Literature. 


Crosthwait,  E.  G.  S.,  Heavenward  Steps,  78. 

Davies  (D.),  Talks  with  Men,  Women  and  Children,  i.  17. 

Hutton  (R.  E.),  The  Crown  of  Christ,  i.  547. 

Ingram  (A.  F.  W.),  The  Secrets  of  Strength,  199. 

Maclaren  (A.),  The  Wearied  Christ,  241. 

Raleigli  (A.),  The  Way  to  the  City,  79. 

Rawnsley  (R.  D.  B.),  Sermons  Preached  in  Country  Churches,  i.  118; 
iii.  120. 

Spurgeon  (C.  H.),  Morning  by  Morning,  134. 
Wilkinson  (J.  B.),  Mission  Sermons,  ii.  255. 
Winterbotliam  (R.),  Sermons,  214. 

Christian  World  Pulpit,   xxxiii.   233  (H.   P.   Liddon) ;  xxxv.  314 

(R.  B.  Brindley). 
Homiletic  Review,  xlix.  222  (F.  Smith). 
Treasury  (New  York),  xxi.  951  (G.  B.  F.  Hallock). 


38 


I 


The  Transience  of  Sorrow. 

His  anger  is  but  for  a  moment; 

In  his  favour  is  life : 

Weeping  may  tarry  for  the  night, 

But  joy  Cometh  in  the  morning. — Ps.  xxx.  5. 

There  is  an  obvious  antithesis  in  the  first  part  of  the  text, 
between  "  his  anger "  and  "  his  favour."  Probably  there  is  a 
similar  antithesis  between  "  a  moment "  and  "  life."  For  although 
the  word  rendered  "  life "  does  not  usually  mean  a  lifetime,  it 
may  have  that  signification,  and  the  evident  intention  of  contrast 
seems  to  require  it  here.  So,  then,  the  meaning  of  the  first  part 
of  the  text  is,  "  the  anger  lasts  for  a  moment ;  the  favour  lasts 
for  a  lifetime."  The  perpetuity  of  the  one  and  the  brevity  of  the 
other  are  the  Psalmist's  thought.  Then,  if  we  pass  to  the  second 
part  of  the  text,  we  observe  that  there  is  a  double  antithesis  there 
also.  "  Weeping  "  is  set  over  against  "joy  "  ;  the  "  night "  against 
the  "  morning."  And  the  first  of  these  two  contrasts  is  the  more 
striking  if  we  observe  that  the  word  "joy"  means,  literally,  "a 
joyful  shout,"  so  that  the  voice  which  was  lifted  in  weeping  is  con- 
ceived of  as  now  being  heard  in  exultant  praise.  Then,  still  further, 
the  expression  "may  endure"  literally  means  "come  to  lodge." 
So  that  Weeping  and  Joy  are  personified.  Two  guests  come — 
one,  dark-robed  and  approaching  at  the  fitting  season  for  such — 
"  the  night " ;  the  other  bright,  coming  with  all  things  fresh  and 
sunny,  in  the  dewy  morn.  The  guest  of  the  night  is  Weeping ; 
the  guest  that  takes  its  place  in  the  morning  is  Gladness. 

Thus  the  two  clauses  of  the  text  suggest  substantially  the 
same  thought,  and  that  is  the  persistence  of  joy  and  the  transitori- 
ness  of  sorrow.  The  one  speaks  of  the  succession  of  emotions  in 
the  man;  the  other,  of  the  successive  aspects  of  the  Divine 
dealings  which  occasion  these.    The  whole  is  a  leaf  out  of  the 

Psalmist's  own   experience.     The    psalm    commemorates  his 

39 


40      THE  TRANSIENCE  OF  SORROW 


deliverance  from  some  affliction,  probably  a  sickness.  That  is 
long  gone  past ;  and  the  tears  that  it  caused  have  long  since 
dried  up.  But  this  shout  of  joy  of  his  has  lasted  all  these 
centuries,  and  is  like  to  be  immortal. 

^  It  was  Paget  himself  who  had  taught  us,  years  before, 
through  his  best-known  volume.  The  Spirit  of  Discipline^  to  con- 
sider carefully  the  meanings  and  contrasts  of  accidie y  and  of 
tristitia,  and  of  "  the  sorrow  of  the  world."  I  asked  him  once — it 
was  on  a  walk  over  the  Col  de  Checouri  at  Courmayeur — to 
expand  for  me  afresh  his  understanding  of  the  phrase  he  used  to 
quote  from  Spinoza:  Tristitia  est  hominis  transitio  a  majore  ad 
minorem  perfectionem.  He  answered  gravely  and  almost  in  a 
whisper,  "  I  can  never  understand  Spinoza,  but  I  am  quite  certain 
he  was  right  there."  ^ 

1. 

Seasons  of  Sorrow. 

1.  Sorrow  comes  in  the  night.  It  comes  in  the  night  of 
worldly  reverses.  These  may  not  be  the  worst  misfortunes  in  life, 
but  only  those  who  experience  them  know  their  poignancy.  It  is 
no  small  thing  to  have  the  savings  of  a  lifetime  swept  away. 
Perhaps  the  storm  came,  the  flood  fell,  the  fire  burned,  a  friend 
proved  false,  the  crash  of  plans  arrived,  a  blunder  in  judgment 
happened — and  the  accumulation  of  years  has  gone.  It  repre- 
sented our  toil  and  tears  and  thought  and  love.  But  it  perished 
in  an  hour.  It  promised  us  happiness  and  independence  in  old 
age.  But  the  promise  failed.  Tears  do  not  turn  dust  to 
diamonds.  Eiches  on  wings  fly  faster  from  us  than  to  us.  To 
cry  over  fortune  lost  is  no  wiser  than  for  the  miller  to  weep  over 
water  that  has  flowed  past. 

2.  Sorrow  becomes  our  guest  in  the  night  of  broken  health. 
The  powers  once  were  vigorous.  We  ran  to  our  task.  Caution 
was  scorned.  Life  seemed  made  to  combat.  We  had  the  strength 
of  Hercules.  But  something  broke.  We  came  against  a  stone 
wall.  We  reached  a  limit.  Our  wings  were  clipped.  Suddenly 
we  discovered  that  the  race  must  be  won  by  swifter  feet  than 
ours.    Possibly  we  complain  as  a  recent  prisoner  of  pain  who 

*  Archbishop  Davidson,  in  Francis  Paget,  Bishop  qf  Oxford,  xviii. 


PSALM  XXX.  5 


41 


said,  "  I  cannot  see  why  people  should  be  born  into  a  world  like 
this  to  suffer.  Could  I  have  seen  my  life  from  the  beginning,  and 
had  I  been  consulted  as  to  whether  I  should  live  to  suffer,  I 
certainly  would  have  chosen  never  to  have  been."  Possibly  we 
have  money ;  but  pain  hurts  the  rich  and  poor  alike.  Possibly  we 
are  religious ;  but  pain  hurts  both  the  infidel  and  the  Christian. 
Possibly  we  deny  pain  or  endure  it  as  heroically  as  Epictetus,  the 
Phrygian  philosopher-slave,  in  the  Eoman  court,  who  said,  when 
his  master  with  some  instrument  of  torture  cruelly  twisted  his 
servant's  leg,  "  If  you  go  on  you  will  break  it "  ;  and  who  also  said 
calmly,  without  expressing  any  of  the  anguish  he  felt  when  his 
brutal  master  did  go  on,  "  I  told  you  that  you  would  break  it." 
Possibly  you  despise  the  old  suffering  house  in  which  you  live  as 
did  this  same  ancient  thinker,  and  define  yourself  as  "  an  ethereal 
existence  staggering  under  the  burden  of  a  corpse."  But  what- 
ever attitude  we  sustain  towards  pain,  it  wrings  the  stifled  cry 
from  our  heart,  and  our  face  often  feels  the  burning  touch  of 
a  tear. 

^  Heine,  suffering  great  physical  agony,  living  in  his  mattress 
grave,  has  given  us  verse  upon  verse  of  sweet  sadness — sometimes 
bitter  in  harsh  complaining  against  God  and  man ;  while  James 
Thomson,  in  his  great  poem  on  London,  "  The  City  of  Dreadful 
Night,"  even  says  that,  could  he  not  have  made  a  less  miserable 
world,  he  would  not  be  God  for  all  His  glory — a  horrible  utterance, 
but  yet  the  answer  of  a  man  who  has  been  made  heartsick  by  the 
poverty  and  misery  of  East  London,  the  sight  of  innumerable 
children  who  never  know  childhood,  so  soon  does  life  curse  them.^ 

3.  Sorrow  comes  to  tarry  with  us  in  the  night  of  bereavement. 
It  may  be  only  for  an  infant  whose  beauty  was  never  caught  by 
a  camera,  and  whose  innocent  feet  were  too  fair  to  walk  other 
than  streets  of  the  city  of  God.  It  may  be  for  a  friend  or  a  lover 
who,  in  the  sweet  old  days,  went  out  of  our  life  and  left  us  for  an 
imperishable  treasure  only  the  sacred  memories  of  hours  that  can 
never  return.  After  these  many  years,  were  a  cross-section  made 
of  our  soul,  we  feel  that  the  image  of  that  blessed  being  would  be 
found  mirrored  thereon.  It  may  be  for  a  mother,  whose  voice 
will  never  again  this  side  the  stars  call  her  child ;  or  for  a  father, 
whose  big,  brave  life  will  no  more  bid  us  follow  the  path  of  virtue. 

1 F.  Lynch. 


42       THE  TRANSIENCE  OF  SORROW 


We  know  that  to-day  in  the  little  city  of  the  dead,  hard  by  the 
city  of  the  living,  sleeps  the  dust  of  our  sacred  dead,  or  under 
other  skies  they  who  are  dead  to  us  walk  forgetful  of  old  ties  and 
obligations.  So  onward  we  all  go,  each  bearing  his  burden  of 
sorrow. 

If  In  some  instances  the  Indian  mothers  literally  cry  their 
eyes  out ;  and  if  you  ask  a  blind  woman  how  she  lost  her  vision, 
she  may  answer  that  it  was  by  weeping  too  hard  for  her  lost 
relatives,  and  dimness  of  sight  is  attributed  to  the  same  cause. 
The  wailings  of  an  Indian  over  his  lost  relative,  and  especially  of 
a  mother  over  her  lost  children,  are  piercing  and  heart-rending ; 
but  it  is  pleasant  to  see  the  contrast  in  this  respect  between  those 
who  are  still  ignorant  of  the  Gospel  and  such  as  have  received  it. 
The  Christian  converts  have  now  learned  to  accept  their  bereave- 
ments as  from  God's  hand  in  silence  and  submission,  and  their 
mute  grief  is  more  impressive  than  the  loud  lamentation  of  the 
heathen.^ 

^  Scarlet  fever  in  its  most  virulent  form  appeared  in  Carlisle 
(where  Dr.  Tait  was  then  Dean),  and,  of  the  six  little  daughters 
whose  presence  had  brought  radiance  to  the  Deanery,  the  heart- 
broken parents  were  called,  within  the  space  of  a  few  weeks,  to 
part  with  all  except  the  infant  who  had  just  been  born.  One  by 
one,  between  the  10th  of  March  and  the  10th  of  April,  they  were 
laid  in  the  single  grave  in  Stanwix  Churchyard.  The  last  entry 
which  has  been  quoted  from  the  diary  was  dated  March  2.  The 
entry  which  immediately  succeeds  it  is  as  follows : — 

"  Thursday,  Sth  May  1856. — I  have  not  had  the  heart  to  make 
any  entry  in  my  journal  now  for  above  nine  weeks.  When  last 
I  wrote  I  had  six  daughters  on  earth ;  now  I  have  one,  an  infant. 
0  God,  Thou  hast  dealt  very  mysteriously  with  us.  We  have 
been  passing  through  deep  waters  :  our  feet  are  well-nigh  gone. 
But  though  Thou  slay  us,  yet  will  we  trust  in  Thee.  .  .  .  They 
are  gone  from  us,  all  but  my  beloved  Craufurd  and  the  babe. 
Thou  hast  re-claimed  the  lent  jewels.  Yet,  0  Lord,  shall  I  not 
thank  Thee  now  ?  I  will  thank  Thee  not  only  for  the  children 
Thou  hast  left  to  us,  but  for  those  Thou  hast  re-claimed.  I  thank 
Thee  for  the  blessing  of  the  last  ten  years,  and  for  all  the  sweet 
memories  of  their  little  lives — memories  how  fragrant  with  every 
blissful,  happy  thought.  I  thank  Thee  for  the  full  assurance  that 
each  has  gone  to  the  arms  of  the  Good  Shepherd,  whom  each 
loved  according  to  the  capacity  of  her  years.  I  thank  Thee  for 
the  bright  hopes  of  a  happy  re-union,  when  we  shall  meet  to  part 

*  Bishop  W.  C.  Bompas,  Northern  Lights  on  the  Bible,  55. 


PSALM  XXX.  5 


43 


no  more.  0  Lord,  for  Jesus  Christ's  sake,  comfort  our  desolate 
hearts.  May  we  be  a  united  family  still  in  heart  through  the 
communion  of  saints — through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord."  ^ 

4.  Sorrow  comes  in  the  night  of  the  consciousness  of  sin.  In 
the  dim  glimmer  of  the  fire  on  the  hearth  the  angel  of  penitence 
brings  to  our  notice  stains  on  our  garment  which,  she  assures  us, 
would  look  a  thousand  times  worse  if  we  saw  them  in  the  proper 
light — saw  them  as  others  see  them,  and,  above  all,  as  God  sees 
them.  She  tells  us  that  such  marks  can  never  be  removed ;  that 
there  are  also  upon  our  countenance  ugly  scars  which  will  always 
disfigure  it ;  that  it  is  a  hopeless  thing  when  a  man  has  lost  his 
good  name ;  that  when  that  is  lost  there  is  nothing  worth  keep- 
ing. She  tells  us,  too,  that  even  those  stains  which  others  may 
not  detect  God  sees ;  that  sin  is  sin,  whether  it  be  secret  or  open ; 
and  that,  the  wide  world  over  and  in  every  age,  "  the  wages  of  sin 
is  death." 

Yearly  I  till  the  vale  and  sow  the  seed, 

But  in  the  furrow  rots  the  golden  grain; 

My  labour  is  accursed,  and  all  in  vain, — 
The  very  earth  revolteth  at  my  deed. 
God  saith  no  man  shall  slay  me,  though  I  plead 

Daily  for  death.    He  placed  this  scarlet  stain 

Here  on  my  brow,  and  agonizing  pain 
Gnaws  me  beneath  it — yet  He  gives  no  heed. 
Enoch  reproacheth  me — the  guileless  lad — 

With  eyes  too  like  that  other's,  long  since  dead; 

Eemorse  engulfs  me  in  her  sanguine  flood; 
I  build  this  City,  else  I  should  go  mad; 

But,  as  I  work,  the  frowning  walls  turn  red 

And  all  the  towers  drip  crimson  with  his  blood.^ 

IL 

The  Sojourn  of  Sorrow. 

1.  Sorrow  always  comes  with  a  mission.  It  has  a  message 
from  God  to  human  life.  You  may  get  two  diametrically  opposite 
motions  out  of  the  same  machine.    The  same  power  will  send  one 

^  Life  of  Ardibisho]}  Tait,  i.  189. 
2  Lloyd  Mifflin. 

I 


44       THE  TRANSIENCE  OF  SORROW 


wheel  revolving  from  right  to  left,  and  another  from  left  to  right, 
but  they  are  co-operant  to  grind  out  at  the  far  end  the  one  pro- 
duct. It  is  the  same  revolution  of  the  earth  that  brings  blessed 
lengthening  days  and  growing  summer,  and  that  cuts  short  the 
sun's  course  and  brings  declining  days  and  increasing  cold.  It  is 
the  same  motion  that  hurls  a  comet  close  to  the  burning  sun  and 
sends  it  wandering  away  out  into  the  fields  of  astronomical  space, 
beyond  the  ken  of  telescope,  and  almost  beyond  the  reach  of 
thought.  And  so  one  uniform  Divine  purpose  fills  the  life,  and 
there  are  no  interruptions,  however  brief,  to  the  steady,  con- 
tinuous flow  of  God's  outpoured  blessings.  All  is  love  and  favour. 
Anger  is  masked  love,  and  sorrow  has  the  same  source  and  mission 
as  joy.  It  takes  all  sorts  of  weather  to  make  a  year,  and  all 
tend  to  the  same  issue  of  ripened  harvests  and  full  barns. 

^  I  grudged  not  our  noble,  lovely  child,  but  rather  do  delight 
that  such  a  seed  should  blossom  and  bear  in  the  kindly  and 
kindred  paradise  of  my  God.  And  why  should  not  I  speak  of 
thee,  my  Edward !  seeing  it  was  in  the  season  of  thy  sickness  and 
death  the  Lord  did  reveal  in  me  the  knowledge  and  hope  and 
desire  of  His  Son  from  heaven  ?  Glorious  exchange !  He  took 
my  son  to  His  own  more  fatherly  bosom,  and  revealed  in  my 
bosom  the  sure  expectation  and  faith  of  His  own  eternal  Son ! 
Dear  season  of  my  life,  ever  to  be  remembered,  when  I  knew  the 
sweetness  and  fruitfulness  of  such  joy  and  sorrow  !  ^ 

^  "  We  will  not  complain  of  Dante's  miseries,"  said  Carlyle ; 
"  had  all  gone  well  with  him  as  he  wished  it,  Florence  would  have 
had  another  prosperous  Lord  Mayor,  but  the  world  would  have 
lost  the  Divina  Commedia." 

^  There  came  to  Glasgow,  not  so  long  ago,  a  pianist  of  an 
excellent  reputation.  I  read  the  Herald's  criticism  on  him,  and 
there  was  one  thing  in  it  that  I  noted  specially.  The  Herald  said 
that  he  had  always  been  brilliant — always  been  wonderful  as  an 
executant — but  now  there  was  a  depth  of  feeling  in  him  that  had 
never  been  present  in  his  work  before.  A  day  or  two  afterwards, 
preaching  in  a  suburb,  I  met  a  relative  of  the  pianist.  And  we 
fell  to  talk  of  him,  and  of  the  Herald,  and  of  the  Herald's 
criticism  on  him.  And  he  said  to  me,  "Did  you  notice  that? 
And  do  you  know  what  was  the  secret  of  the  change  ?  It  was  the 
death  of  his  mother  eighteen  months  ago"  He  was  an  only  son, 
unmarried,  and  he  had  been  simply  devoted  to  his  mother.  And 

^  Edward  Irving,  in  Life  by  Mrs.  Oliphant,  i.  247. 


PSALM  XXX.  5 


45 


then  she  died,  and  he  was  left  alone,  and  all  the  deeps  were 
broken  up  in  him.  And  now  he  played  as  only  he  can  play  who 
knows  what  life  and  death  are,  and  what  sorrow  is.^ 

The  dark  brown  mould's  upturned 

By  the  sharp-pointed  plow, 
And  I've  a  lesson  learned. 

My  life  is  but  a  field 

Stretched  out  beneath  God's  sky, 
Some  harvest  rich  to  yield. 

Where  grows  the  golden  grain, 

Where  faith, — where  sympathy? 
In  a  furrow  cut  by  pain.^ 

2.  Sorrow  tarries  only  for  the  night.  It  takes  its  departure 
whenever  its  mission  is  fulfilled.  A  thunder-storm  is  very  short 
when  measured  against  the  long  summer  day  in  which  it  crashes ; 
and  very  few  days  have  thunder-storms.  It  must  be  a  bad  climate 
where  half  the  days  are  rainy.  If  we  were  to  take  a  chart  and 
prick  out  upon  it  the  line  of  our  voyage,  we  should  find  that  the 
spaces  in  which  the  weather  was  tempestuous  were  brief  and  few 
indeed  as  compared  with  those  in  which  it  was  sunny  and  calm. 

^  Eeferring  to  the  discipline  which  God's  love  makes  Him  use, 
David  says,  "  For  his  anger  is  but  for  a  moment :  his  favour  is  for 
a  lifetime.  Weeping  may  come  in  to  lodge  at  even,  but  joy 
Cometh  in  the  morning."  There  may  be  weeping.  There  shall  be 
joy.  Weeping  won't  stay  long.  There  is  a  morning  coming, 
always  a  morning  coming,  with  the  sunshine  and  the  chorus  of 
the  birds.  Love's  discipling  touch  that  seems  at  the  moment  like 
anger  is  only  for  a  moment.  (The  printer  wanted  to  change  that 
word  "  discipling  "  to  "  disciplining  " ;  but  God's  tenderness  comes 
to  us  anew  when  we  realize  that  disciplining  with  its  sharp  edge 
means  the  same  as  discipling,  with  its  softer,  warmer  touch.) 
The  loving  favour  is  for  always,  a  lifetime  of  eternal  life.^ 

^  A  tourist  writes  of  stopping  at  Giesbach  to  look  at  the 
wonders  of  its  waterfalls.  The  party  had  to  pass  over  one  of 
the  falls  on  a  slender  bridge  through  the  drenching  water,  with  the 
wild  torrents  dashing  beneath.    It  was  a  trying  experience.  But 

1  G.  H.  Morrison,  The  Afterglow  of  God,  92. 

*  M.  D.  Babcock,  Thoughts  for  Every-Day  Living,  167. 

*  S.  D.  Gordon,  Quiet  Talks  on  Service,  210. 


46 


THE  TRANSIENCE  OF  SORROW 


once  through,  a  glorious  picture  burst  upon  them.  There  were 
rainbows  above,  beneath,  and  circling  on  all  sides.  So  the  spray 
of  sorrow  falls  now,  and  we  may  have  to  walk  through  floods  and 
pitiless  torrents,  and  all  may  seem  a  strange,  inexplicable  mystery. 
But  there  will  come  a  time  when  we  shall  have  passed  through 
these  showers  of  grief,  and  when  we  shall  stand  amid  the 
splendour  of  rainbows  on  the  shores  of  glory.  Then  we  shall 
understand,  and  see  love  in  every  pang  and  tear.^ 

From  the  sunshine  of  Thy  dwelling 
Thou  hast  sent  me  this  new  day, 
Laden  with  Thy  love  excelling, 
Tidings  of  Thy  glory  telling 
To  refresh  my  way. 

Good  and  perfect  gifts  are  lying 

Wrapt  within  its  folds  of  light, 
Pledges  of  a  faith  undying, 
That  earth's  sorrow  and  its  sighing 
Will  but  last  a  night.^ 

S.  There  is  a  balance  of  good  in  the  world,  using  the  word 
"good"  in  the  lowest  sense,  that  is,  looking  merely  on  man's 
animal  life,  and  regarding  him  only  as  a  denizen,  for  a  little,  of 
this  material  world.  Men  are  busy,  men  are  happy ;  far  more 
happy,  at  least,  than  miserable.  Some  few  are  miserable  utterly ; 
all  are  more  or  less  unhappy  at  times,  and  for  a  little.  Yes  !  that 
is  just  it,  just  what  the  text  says — "  for  a  little  " ;  the  dark  time  is 
"for  a  moment."  The  brighter  times  stretch  on,  and  flow  into 
each  other,  and  go  far  to  fill  up  the  life. 

^  The  proportion  of  solid  matter  needed  to  colour  the  Irwell 
is  very  little  in  comparison  with  the  whole  of  the  stream.  But 
the  current  carries  it,  and  a  trace  of  dye-stuff  will  stain  miles  of 
the  turbid  stream.  Memory  and  anticipation  beat  the  metal  thin, 
and  make  it  cover  an  enormous  space.  And  the  misery  is  that, 
somehow,  we  have  better  memories  for  sad  hours  than  for  joyful 
ones,  and  it  is  easier  to  get  accustomed  to  "  blessings,"  as  we  call 
them,  and  to  lose  the  poignancy  of  their  sweetness  because  they  , 
become  familiar,  than  it  is  to  apply  the  same  process  to  our 
sorrows,  and  thus  to  take  the  edge  otf  them.  The  rose's  prickles 
are  felt  in  the  flesh  longer  than  its  fragrance  lives  in  the  nostrils, 

*  J.  E,.  Miller,  Week-Day  Religion,  81. 
^  G.  Matheson,  Sacred  Songs,  57. 


PSALM  XXX.  5 


47 


or  its  hue  in  the  eye.  Men  have  long  memories  for  their  pains  as 
compared  with  their  remembrance  of  their  sorrows.^ 

If  To  her  friend  Miss  Nicholson,  whose  sympathy  brought  her 
much  strength  and  peace,  Florence  Nightingale  wrote  in  1846 : 
"  My  imagination  is  so  filled  with  the  misery  of  this  world  that 
the  only  thing  in  which  to  labour  brings  any  return,  seems  to  me 
helping  and  sympathizing  there)  and  all  that  poets  sing  of  the 
glories  of  this  world  appears  to  me  untrue :  all  the  people  I  see 
are  eaten  up  with  care  or  poverty  or  disease.  I  know  that  it  was 
God  who  created  the  good,  and  man  the  evil,  which  was  not  the 
will  of  God,  but  the  necessary  consequence  of  His  leaving  free- 
will to  man.  I  know  that  misery  is  the  alphabet  of  fire,  in  which 
history,  with  its  warning  hand,  writes  in  flaming  letters  the  conse- 
quences of  Evil  (the  Kingdom  of  Man),  and  that,  without  its 
glaring  light,  we  should  never  see  the  path  into  the  Kingdom  of 
God,  or  heed  the  directing  guide-posts."  ^ 


III. 

The  Supplanter  of  Sorrow. 

1.  "Joy  Cometh  in  the  morning."  There  are  two  figures 
presented  before  us,  the  dark-robed  and  the  bright-garmented. 
The  one  is  the  guest  of  the  night,  the  other  is  the  guest  of  the 
morning.  The  verb  which  occurs  in  the  first  clause  of  the  second 
half  of  the  text  is  not  repeated  in  the  second,  and  so  the  words 
may  be  taken  in  two  ways.  They  may  either  express  how  Joy, 
the  morning  guest,  comes,  and  turns  out  the  evening  visitant,  or 
they  may  suggest  how  we  took  Sorrow  in  when  the  night  fell,  to 
sit  by  the  fireside,  but  when  morning  dawned — who  is  this  sitting 
in  her  place,  smiling  as  we  look  at  her  ?  It  is  Sorrow  transfigured, 
and  her  name  is  changed  into  Joy.  Either  the  substitution  or  the 
transformation  may  be  supposed  to  be  in  the  Psalmist's  mind. 
Both  are  true. 

\  Does  not  the  whole  teaching  of  the  Cross  say  that  sorrow 
and  pain  alone  wake  us  up  to  reality,  and  that  trial  is  a  truer 
refiner  of  character  than  pleasure  ?  Of  course,  this  is  not  our  first 
impression;  it  needs  a  revelation  to  tell  it,  or  at  all  events  to 
interpret  our  own  experience.    You  have  a  proof  of  that  in  a 

^  A.  Maclaren,  The  Wearied  Christ,  243. 

*  Sir  Edward  Cook,  The  Life  of  Florence  Nightingale,  i.  58. 


48       THE  TRANSIENCE  OF  SORROW 


child's  wonder  at  the  expression,  "  Blessed  are  they  that  mourn  " ; 
for  how  should  a  happy,  careless  child  divine  such  a  mystery? 
Life  alone  can  apply  the  meaning  of  these  words  of  Christ,  or 
explain  how  true  they  are ;  for,  indeed,  they  are  only  subjectively 
true,  deriving  their  truth  not  from  sorrow  and  pain  in  themselves, 
but  from  the  tempers  on  which  they  fall ;  so  that  they  are  not 
true  always — to  some  never  true.  Yet  how  deep  they  are,  and 
how  such  convictions  alone  can  make  this  life  intelligible  or 
tolerable !  That  is  a  blessed  faith  which  feels  that  there  cannot 
be  clouds  and  gloom  for  ever — which,  ever  resting  in  conviction  of 
what  God  is,  hopes  and  knows  that  "joy  cometh  in  the  morning."  ^ 

Say  not  that  darkness  is  the  doom  of  light, 
That  every  sun  must  sink  in  night's  abyss, 
While  every  golden  day  declines  to  this, 

To  die  and  pass  at  evening  out  of  sight. 

Say  rather  that  the  morning  ends  the  night, 
That  death  must  die  beneath  the  dayspring's  kiss — 
Whilst  dawn  the  powers  of  darkness  shall  dismiss. 

And  put  their  dusky  armaments  to  flight. 

Man  measures  life  in  this  wise;  first  the  morn, 
And  secondly  the  noontide's  perfect  prime, 
And  lastly  night,  when  all  things  fade  away : 

But  God,  ere  yet  the  sons  of  men  were  born. 
Showed  forth  a  better  way  of  marking  time — 
"The  evening  and  the  morning  were  the  day."^ 

2.  We  can  anticipate  the  morning  even  in  our  night  of  sorrow. 
Even  in  the  midst  of  the  snow  and  cold  and  darkness  of  Arctic 
regions,  the  explorers  build  houses  for  themselves  of  the  very 
blocks  of  ice,  and  within  are  warmth  and  light  and  comfort  and 
vitality,  while  around  is  a  dreary  waste.  There  may  be  two 
currents  in  the  great  ocean ;  a  cold  one  may  set  from  the  Pole 
and  threaten  to  chill  and  freeze  all  life  out,  but  from  the  Equator 
there  will  be  a  warm  one  which  will  more  than  counterbalance 
the  inrush  of  the  cold.  And  so  it  is  possible  for  us,  even  when 
things  about  us  are  dark  and  gloomy,  and  flesh  and  natural 
sensibilities  all  proclaim  to  us  the  necessity  of  sadness — it  is 
possible  for  us  to  be  aware  of  a  central  blessedness,  not  boisterous, 
but  so  grave  and  calm  that  the  world  cannot  discriminate  between 
it  and  sadness,  which  yet  its  possessors  know  to  be  blessedness 

^  Life  and  Letters  of  the  Rev.  F.  W.  Robertson,  281. 

2  Ellen  Thorneycroft  Towler,  Verses,  Wise  or  Otherwise,  200. 


PSALM  XXX.  5 


49 


unmingled.  Left  alone,  we  may  have  a  companion ;  in  our 
ignorance  we  maybe  enlightened;  and  in  the  murkiest  night  of 
our  sorrow  we  may  have,  burning  cheerily  within  our  hearts,  a 
light  unquenchable. 

^  A  traveller  entered  Milan  Cathedral  at  the  dawn  of  day. 
The  sunbeams  fell  on  the  eastern  windows.  Every  pane  of 
glass  revealed  its  beauty.  The  images  of  apostle,  prophet,  angel, 
and  Christ  were  seen  in  all  their  glory.  The  sun  swept  on  to 
his  zenith  and  then  drove  his  chariot  behind  the  western  Alps. 
As  he  did  so  he  flung  his  beams  upon  the  western  windows  of  the 
great  shrine.  Then  the  glories  they  contained  appeared.  Not  a 
figure  remained  without  its  light.  All  the  richness  of  colour  and 
symbolism  appeared.  So  the  passing  of  time  and  the  shining  of 
the  consolations  of  faith  into  a  life  transform  sorrow  into  joy  and 
gloom  into  glory.^ 

Oh,  deem  not  they  are  blest  alone 
Whose  lives  a  peaceful  tenor  keep; 

The  Power  who  pities  man,  hath  shown 
A  blessing  for  the  eyes  that  weep. 

The  light  of  smiles  shall  fill  again 
The  lids  that  overflow  with  tears; 

And  weary  hours  of  woe  and  pain 
Are  promises  of  happier  years. 

There  is  a  day  of  sunny  rest 

For  every  dark  and  troubled  night: 

And  grief  may  hide  an  evening  guest. 
But  joy  shall  come  with  early  light.^ 

^  F.  Smith,  in  Homiletic  Review^  xlix.  224. 
2  W.  C.  Bryant,  Poems,  39. 


PS.  xxv.-cxix. — 4 


KooM  TO  Live. 


5' 


•1 
-. 

1 


Literature. 


Adams  (J.),  Sei'mons  in  Syntax,  51. 
Ainsworth  (P.  C),  The  Pilgrim  Church,  201. 
Clow  (W.  M.),  The  Secret  of  the  Lord,  333. 
Ellis  (J.),  Through  Christ  to  Life,  52. 
Miller  (J.  K),  Week- Day  Religion,  1. 
Morrison  (G.  H.),  The  Afterglow  of  God,  143. 

Christian  World  Pulpit,  Ixxix.  253  (B.  J.  Gibbon) ;  Ixxx.  158  (C.  F. 
Perry). 

Treasury  (New  York),  xii.  175  (T.  W.  Anderson). 


5? 


Room  to  Live. 


Thou  hast  set  my  feet  in  a  large  place.— Ps.  xxxi.  8. 

The  idea  is  common  in  the  Psalms  of  distress  as  restraint,  irksome 
confinement.  The  man  in  trouble  is  shut  up :  he  is  in  a  strait 
place.  Consequently  the  idea  of  deliverance  takes  the  form  of 
enlargement.  The  distressed  man  is  led  out  of  a  narrow  gorge 
into  a  wide  plain.  He  dwells  now  in  a  broad  place.  He  enjoys 
the  sense  of  ample  space.  "Thou  hast  set  my  feet  in  a  large 
place."  We  have  the  same  figure,  although  our  use  of  it  is 
perhaps  not  so  common,  in  our  own  language.  We  talk  of 
"  straitened  circumstances,"  and  again  of  "  room  to  breathe  "  and 
"  elbow  room." 

I. 

Straitened  Circumstances. 

There  are  agencies  and  influences  always  operating,  whose 
nature  it  is  to  reduce  life  to  a  narrow  area.  The  most  potent  are 
sin,  trouble,  and  grinding  toil. 

1.  The  narrowing  effect  of  sin,  more  than  of  anything  else,  seems 
to  be  suggested  by  these  words.  There  is  the  inherited  weakness 
and  the  encircling  contagion — within  us,  the  evil  tendency; 
without  us,  the  unhallowed  opportunity.  Sometimes  a  man  ac- 
cepts the  pressing  solicitation  of  evil,  or  yields  to  the  hot-handed 
grip  of  the  world's  desire;  and  then  with  a  demeaned  dignity 
and  lowered  self-respect,  he  measures  life  and  finds  he  has  but  a 
few  square  feet  in  which  to  stand  and  call  himself  a  fool.  He 
measures  his  shame  and  his  weakness — his  poor  failure — and  he 
says,  Life  is  a  narrow  place. 

When  William  Blake  the  poet  was  an  old  man,  there  came 
a  lady  one  day  to  see  him.    She  was  beautiful  and  rich,  and  she 

S3 


54 


ROOM  TO  LIVE 


had  the  world  at  her  feet,  as  we  express  it.  Blake  looked  at  her, 
as  with  a  look  of  pity  he  put  his  hand  upon  her  head  and  said, 
"  My  child,  may  God  make  the  world  as  beautiful  to  you  as  it  has 
been  to  me."  Let  a  young  man  have  a  pure  imagination  and  his 
world  will  be  a  world  of  glory.  He  may  be  poor,  and  his  days 
may  be  monotonous,  but  life  will  be  clad  for  him  in  royal 
splendour.  And  that  is  where  the  curse  of  sin  comes  in,  defiling 
and  polluting  everything.  Let  it  once  creep  into  the  imagination, 
and  everything  bright  and  beautiful  is  gone.^ 

So  dear  to  Heav'n  is  saintly  chastity 

That  when  a  soul  is  found  sincerely  so, 

A  thousand  liveried  angels  lackey  her, 

Driving  far  off  each  thing  of  sin  and  guilt. 

And  in  clear  dream,  and  solemn  vision. 

Tell  her  of  things  that  no  gross  ear  can  hear, 

Till  o^t  converse  with  heav'nly  habitants 

Begin  to  cast  a  beam  on  th'  outward  shape, 

The  unpolluted  temple  of  the  mind. 

And  turns  it  by  degrees  to  the  soul's  essence. 

Till  all  be  made  immortal :  but  when  lust 

By  unchaste  looks,  loose  gestures,  and  foul  talk, 

But  most  by  lewd  and  lavish  act  of  sin, 

Lets  in  defilement  to  the  inward  parts, 

The  soul  grows  clotted  by  contagion, 

Imbodies,  and  imbrutes,  till  she  quite  lose 

The  divine  property  of  her  first  being. 

Such  are  those  thick  and  gloomy  shadows  damp 

Oft  seen  in  charnel-vaults  and  sepulchres, 

Lingering,  and  sitting  by  a  new-made  grave, 

As  loth  to  leave  the  body  that  it  lov'd. 

And  link't  itself  by  carnal  sensuality 

To  a  degenerate  and  degraded  state.^ 

2.  Trouble  and  adversity  make  life  a  small  room.  It  is  true 
that  at  times  a  stone  pillow  brings  a  man,  like  dreaming  Jacob, 
near  heaven,  but  generally  the  heart  is  full  of  unsatisfied  longings, 
of  unutterable  thoughts.  We  are  shut  in  by  sordid  circumstances, 
like  the  lark  by  its  cheap  cage,  or  we  drag  behind  us  a  chain  of 
anxiety  and  regret ;  we  are  clogged  by  ill-health  or  mean  cares ; 
parts  of  our  being  lie  waste,  or  yield  crops  that  cause  pain  and 
shame.    At  times  the  sky  is  grey,  the  heart  full  of  bitterness. 

1  G.  H.  Morrison,  The  Afterglow  of  God,  143. 

2  Milton,  Comus. 


PSALM  XXXI.  8 


55 


All  is  so  flat  and  depressing,  and  no  outlook  promises  better 
weather  to  come. 

^  In  every  life  are  there  not  strange  events,  unlooked-for 
catastrophes,  heartbreaking  bereavements,  mysterious  contradic- 
tions, unfathomed  problems  shed  all  along  our  path,  in  which  it 
seems  as  though  by  some  sudden  combination  the  very  heavens 
are  blotted  out  ?  Do  we  not  sometimes  feel  like  the  pelican  in 
the  wilderness  or  the  stranger  left  by  the  caravan  to  die  alone  in 
a  dry  and  thirsty  land  where  no  water  is  ?  Life's  heaviest  blows 
often  come  most  unexpectedly.  Death  appears,  and  our  astonish- 
ment is  even  greater  than  our  grief.  Losses  arise,  and  we  are 
petrified  with  surprise  as  our  treasure  disappears  in  the  most 
unlikely  directions.  Friends  and  comrades  fail  us,  and  amaze- 
ment almost  chokes  us.  Have  we  not  times  in  which  prayer  fails 
and  hope  dies  down  to  a  poor  flicker,  and  we  can  do  nothing  and 
think  nothing,  and  when  we  feel  as  dead  men  that  cumber  the 
ground?  Do  we  not  know  what  it  is  to  walk  about  with  that 
sickening  of  heart  which  makes  our  food  like  bitter  herbs,  and  in 
the  morning  makes  us  wish  for  evening  and  at  night  makes  us 
long  for  morning  ?  ^ 

^  From  physical  weakness,  mental  distress,  or  it  may  be  from 
the  faults  of  others,  some  lives  remain  weak  and  feel  it,  and,  with 
lessening  resources,  find  increasing  pain.  To  such  the  following 
incident  will  appeal :  "  I  was  strongly  touched  one  day,"  says 
Dr.  Gregory,  "by  the  bedside  of  an  energetic  and  elastic  man 
of  business,  sanguine  and  successful  and  with  a  splendid  flow 
of  spirits,  who  was  suddenly  struck  down  by  illness.  With 
trembling  finger  and  with  moistened  eyes  he  pointed  to  an 
illuminated  text  hung  in  front  of  him  at  the  foot  of  his  bed, 
'  Have  mercy  upon  me,  0  Lord ;  for  I  am  weak ' — a  new  and 
strange  experience  for  one  in  the  flower  of  manhood,  who  had 
hitherto  known  only  high-toned  health.  He  said,  'Do  you  see 
that  ?  '  I  answered,  '  Yes,  and  God  sees  it  and  hears  it  too.'  '  Ah,' 
said  he, '  I  got  them  to  put  it  there  that  I  might  look  at  it  and 
then  from  it  to  God.'" 2 

3.  The  monotony  of  our  tasks  has  a  narrowing  effect  on  life. 
The  young  just  entering  life  find  it  full  of  novelty  and  aglow 
with  romance.  All  things  are  possible  to  them.  The  world  is 
open  before  them.  They  are  conscious  of  latent  powers.  They 
see  great  opportunities.    They  will  go  far.    They  will  climb 

1  \V.  Bramwell  Booth.  2  J.  Ellis. 


56 


ROOM  TO  LIVE 


high.  "Thou  hast  set  my  feet  in  a  large  room,"  they  are  well 
able  to  say.  But  as  they  grow  older,  and  find  their  place  in  the 
world,  and  settle  down  to  their  work,  the  glamour  vanishes. 
They  find  that  their  sphere  is  small,  their  abilities  limited,  and 
their  opportunities  few.  The  wide  horizon  of  youth  contracts. 
Work  loses  its  novelty.  It  becomes  wearisome  and  monotonous, 
and  they  are  ready  to  cry,  "  Thou  hast  set  my  feet  in  a  small 
room ! " 

^  The  girl  who  goes  to  the  marriage  altar,  her  head  full  of 
romance,  wakes  up  from  love's  young  dream  to  discover  that  her 
life  is  a  ceaseless  round  of  cooking,  sweeping,  dusting,  and  tidying. 
Her  husband  perhaps  works  in  a  factory,  where  he  feeds  a 
machine,  the  same  machine,  or  stokes  a  fire,  the  same  fire,  all  day 
long,  and  six  days  a  week.  I  have  seen  a  girl  in  a  factory  lining 
a  box  with  paper,  and  then  lining  another  box  with  paper,  and 
continuing  to  line  boxes  with  paper  the  livelong  day.  Oh,  for  an 
outdoor  life !  ^ 

The  close  and  subtle  clasping  of  a  chain, 
Formed  not  of  gold,  but  of  corroded  brass, 
Whose  links  are  furnished  from  the  common  mine 
Of  everyday's  event,  and  want,  and  wish; 
From  work-times,  diet-times,  and  sleeping-times: 
And  thence  constructed,  mean  and  heavy  links 
Within  the  pandemonic  walls  of  sense 
Enchain  our  deathless  part,  constrain  our  strength, 
And  waste  the  goodly  stature  of  our  soul. 

Howbeit,  we  love  this  bondage;  we  do  cleave 

Unto  the  sordid  and  unholy  thing, 

Fearing  the  sudden  wrench  required  to  break 

Those  clasped  links.    Behold!  all  sights  and  sounds 

In  air,  and  sea,  and  earth,  and  under  earth. 

All  flesh,  all  life,  all  ends,  are  mysteries; 

And  all  that  is  mysterious  dreadful  seems, 

And  all  we  cannot  understand  we  fear. 

Ourselves  do  scare  ourselves;  we  hide  our  sight 

In  artificial  nature  from  the  true, 

And  throw  sensation's  veil  associative 

On  God's  creation,  man's  intelligence; 

Bowing  our  high  imaginings  to  eat 

Dust,  like  the  serpent,  once  erect  as  they; 

1  B.  J.  Gibbon. 


PSALM  XXXI.  8 


57 


Binding  conspicuous  on  our  reason's  brow 
Phylacteries  of  shame;  learning  to  feel 
By  rote,  and  act  by  rule  (man's  rule,  not  God's!), 
Until  our  words  grow  echoes,  and  our  thoughts 
A  mechanism  of  spirit.^ 

II. 

Large  Eoom. 

There  are  two  ways  in  which  the  smallest  room  can  be  en- 
larged indefinitely — one  by  lifting  the  roof,  the  other  by  pushing 
back  the  walls.  And  in  those  two  ways,  by  taking  off  the  roof  of 
life  until  we  see  God,  and  knocking  away  the  walls  of  time  until 
we  see  eternity,  each  of  us  may  occupy — and  should  occupy, 
as  many  do — the  largest  room  on  earth. 

i.  Add  God  to  Life. 

1.  Let  us  add  the  thought  of  God  to  life.  God  alone  can  deal 
effectively  with  our  sin.  He  alone  can  give  deliverance.  And 
what  happens  to  the  man  who  resolutely  takes  his  place  in  the 
battle  against  sin — his  own  sin,  the  world's  sin  ?  Day  by  day  the 
soul  within  him,  which  has  its  birthplace  and  its  goal  beyond  the 
stars,  asserts  itself,  as  it  discovers  larger  rights  and  possibilities, 
and  an  ever  surer  hope  of  victory  gives  vision  not  bounded  by 
life's  most  pressing  and  persistent  circumstance.  Day  by  day  it 
becomes  more  apparent  that  the  life  of  the  soul  is  circled  by 
a  horizon  that  its  most  daring  dreams  have  never  scanned,  and 
that  for  the  pure-hearted  the  dusty,  choking,  hand-to-hand  en- 
counter with  sin  holds  promise  wider  than  the  world.  Let  us 
remember  that,  if  in  this  day  of  much  striving  we  are  growing 
sick  and  weary,  we  are  not  fighting  for  the  little  patch  of  trampled 
earth  beneath  our  feet,  where  the  grass  and  the  flowers  have  been 
beaten  into  common  dust.  We  are  fighting  for  the  right  and 
fitness  to  enter  the  land  that  is  very  far  off,  where,  by  the  river 
of  nameless  peace,  men  have  life  because  they  see  God.  Surely 
the  life  that  finds  room  for  a  fight  like  that  is  a  wide  life ! 

^  If  our  faith  is  to  be  true,  we  need  the  simple,  direct  sense 

^  E.  B.  Browning,  A  Sea-side  Meditation. 


58 


ROOM  TO  LIVE 


of  God  the  Father  that  we  had  as  children — we  need  that  ex- 
panded into  a  sense  of  the  great,  living  God.  What  was  dear 
to  us  in  our  childhood's  religion  is  purified  and  preserved  and 
strengthened  by  the  wider  range  which  the  expansion  of  our 
life  has  opened  up.    In  one  of  Shakespeare's  sonnets  he  writes : 

When  to  the  sessions  of  sweet  silent  thought 
I  summon  up  remembrance  of  things  past, 
I  sigh  the  lack  of  many  a  thing  I  sought, 
And  moan  the  expense  of  many  a  vanish'd  sight: 
But  if  the  while  I  think  on  thee,  dear  friend, 
All  losses  are  restor'd,  and  sorrows  end. 

Now  what  Shakespeare  wrote  about  this  friendship,  we  may 
apply  to  the  time  in  which  we  are  living.  It  is  the  thought  of 
God  which  lifts  us  up  above  the  melancholy  of  the  past,  and 
delivers  us  from  the  weakness  that  morbid  regret  instilled  into 
our  hearts.  We  believe  in  a  God  of  our  life  who  is  able  to 
develop  our  growth.  We  learn  from  Jesus  to  recognize  in  God's 
handling  of  us  that  any  outward  change,  however  unwelcome, 
must  be  accompanied  by  an  inward  access  of  moral  strength. 
Whatever  God  takes  from  us  in  that  way  comes  back  to  us  in 
another  form,  enriched,  enlarged.^ 

2.  The  thought  of  God  will  reveal  a  purpose  in  trouble.  We 
shall  realize  that  "  in  every  sorrow  of  the  heart,  Eternal  Mercy 
bears  a  part."  God's  good  purpose  runs  through  our  saddened 
hours.  It  is  then  that  pride  dies  and  sympathy  is  born.  But 
if  we  forget  God  we  reverse  this  order  of  things.  We  grow 
narrower  and  colder  and  harder.  We  drift  into  cynicism  and 
pessimism.  We  are  the  worse  instead  of  the  better  for  our  tears. 
There  is  an  old  saying  attributed  to  Christ  that  has  a  double 
significance.  It  runs :  "  He  that  is  near  Me  is  near  the  fire." 
To  be  near  the  fire  is  to  be  tested,  perhaps  scorched  and  made 
hard.  But  it  is  also  to  be  warmed  and  cheered,  and  the  double 
action  is  felt  by  each  disciple.  Attempts  at  serious,  earnest  living 
will  always  involve  pain,  but  it  will  be  pain  that  is  compensated 
by  stronger  and  sweeter  strength.  Life  is  neither  all  sunshine  nor 
all  gloom.  A  restless  devil  and  a  changing  world  will  account  for 
discomforts,  and  there  are  moments  of  intense  dreariness,  gloom, 
bitterness,  and  woe.  Then  I  am  with  you,  says  the  Lord,  as  a 
Comforter  able  to  help,  to  bring  Lazarus  from  the  dead ;  and  this 

1  J.  Moliatt. 


PSALM  XXXI.  8 


59 


is  more  than  we  dare  ask  for  or  can  realize.  As  the  chaplain 
said  to  the  dying  Highlander — "Geordie,  'tis  just  Jesus";  and 
where  the  cloud  appears  J esus  is  not  far  away. 

^  Mr.  A.  C.  Benson  has  described  in  The  House  of  Quiet  the 
life  of  a  man  who  had  attained,  after  a  youth  of  unstable  health, 
to  an  apparently  sound  constitution,  and  was  now  living  out  a  full 
and  happy  and  useful  life  in  London.  Suddenly  his  old  delicacy 
of  health  reappeared.  He  consulted  an  eminent  physician.  He 
came  out  of  the  consulting-room  with  a  virtual  sentence  of  death. 
"To  say  farewell  to  the  bustle  and  activity  of  life;  to  be  laid 
aside  on  a  shelf  like  a  cracked  vase,  turning  as  far  as  possible  my 
ornamental  front  to  the  world;  to  live  the  shadowed  life,  a 
creature  of  rules  and  hours — a  degrading  and  humiliating  role." 
But  he  accepted  the  will  of  God.  He  took  up  his  cross.  He 
passed  into  "  The  House  of  Quiet,"  expecting  only  the  peace  of 
a  difficult  resignation.  But  in  "  The  House  of  Quiet "  a  new  life 
began.  An  unexpected  feeling  of  the  possibilities  of  life  dawned. 
His  perceptions  became  more  delicate.  The  gush  of  morning  air, 
the  liquid  song  of  birds,  the  sprouting  of  the  green  buds,  the 
babble  of  the  stream  gave  a  new  delight.  His  intellectual  life 
grew  strong,  eager,  discerning.  A  quickened  taste  for  pure  and 
noble  reading,  and  a  fresh  joy  in  beauty,  filled  him  with  rapture. 
Then  there  swelled  within  him  a  more  deliberate  intention  of 
enjoying  simple  things  and  of  expecting  beauty  in  homely  life. 
At  last  he  awoke  to  his  true  service.  He  had  hitherto  looked  on 
at  life  around  him  with  a  dimmed  eye  and  dulled  ear.  Now 
all  the  cries  of  the  sick  and  the  pained,  and  all  the  eager  and 
appealing  voices  of  the  young  and  wistful,  and  all  the  soft,  low 
sobbing  of  the  bereaved  fell  upon  his  ears.  All  the  needs,  daily 
and  clamant,  of  his  neighbours  rose  up  in  appeal.  This  broken 
man,  walking  on  the  edge  of  death's  abyss,  gave  up  his  life  and 
used  his  feeble  strength  to  help  and  to  comfort  others.  He 
found  that  he  had  entered  a  new  world.  He  no  longer  lived 
in  the  isolation  of  the  strong,  the  successful,  the  selfish.  New 
felicities  swelled  within  his  heart.  New  and  unhoped-for  strength 
was  given.  His  life  became  a  life  of  faith  and  love;  and  that 
rest  which  is  our  deepest  satisfaction  is  always  their  first- 
born child.i 

The  cry  of  man's  anguish  went  up  unto  God: 

"Lord,  take  away  pain — 
The  shadow  that  darkens  the  world  Thou  hast  made, 

The  close-coiling  chain 

1  W.  M.  Clow,  The  Secret  of  the  Lord,  333. 


6o 


ROOM  TO  LIVE 


That  strangles  the  heart,  the  burden  that  weighs 

On  the  wings  that  would  soar; 
Lord,  take  away  pain  from  the  world  Thou  hast  made, 

That  it  love  Thee  the  more ! " 

Then  answered  the  Lord  to  the  cry  of  His  world: 

"Shall  I  take  away  pain 
And  with  it  the  power  of  the  soul  to  endure. 

Made  strong  by  the  strain  ? 
Shall  I  take  away  pity  that  knits  heart  to  heart, 

And  sacrifice  high  ? 
Will  ye  lose  all  your  heroes  that  lift  from  the  fire 

White  brows  to  the  sky  ? 
Shall  I  take  away  love  that  redeems  with  a  price, 

And  smiles  at  its  loss  ? 
Can  ye  spare  from  your  lives  that  would  climb  into  Mine 

The  Christ  on  His  cross?*' 

3.  The  thought  of  God  will  change  grinding  toil  into  a  sweet 
ministry. 

(1)  We  shall  realize  that  our  sphere  is  God-appointed.  The 
place  in  which  we  find  ourselves  is  the  place  in  which  the  Master 
desires  us  to  live  our  life. 

Thou  cam'st  not  to  thy  place  by  accident; 
It  is  the  very  place  God  meant  for  thee. 

There  is  no  haphazard  in  this  world.  God  leads  every  one  of  His 
children  by  the  right  way.  He  knows  where  and  under  what 
influences  each  particular  life  will  ripen  best.  One  tree  grows 
best  in  the  sheltered  valley,  another  by  the  water's  edge,  another 
on  the  bleak  mountain-top  swept  by  storms.  There  is  always 
adaptation  in  nature.  Every  tree  or  plant  is  found  in  the  locality 
where  the  conditions  of  its  growth  exist,  and  does  God  give  more 
thought  to  trees  and  plants  than  to  His  own  children  ?  He  places 
us  amid  the  circumstances  and  experiences  in  which  our  life  will 
grow  and  ripen  the  best.  The  peculiar  discipline  to  which  we  are 
each  subjected  is  the  discipline  we  severally  need  to  bring  out  in 
us  the  beauties  and  graces  of  true  spiritual  character.  We  are 
in  the  right  school.  We  may  think  that  we  would  ripen  more 
quickly  in  a  more  easy  and  luxurious  life,  but  God  knows  what  is 
best ;  He  makes  no  mistakes. 


PSALM  XXXI.  8 


6i 


^  Too  often  the  Christian  thinks  that  he  could  "  walk  and 
please  God "  if  he  might  first  readjust  the  pathway  to  his  own 
liking.  But  surely  it  is  not  so.  Our  work,  our  home,  our 
appointed  circle  of  intercourse,  our  temperament,  our  past,  He  has 
made  them.  It  is  ours  not  to  re-arrange  His  plan,  but  to  follow 
Him  along  it.  There  is  an  instructive  passage  in  the  life  of 
Madame  de  la  Mothe  Guyon.  At  an  early  stage  of  her  blessed 
walk  with  God,  peculiar  trials  beset  her  home  life.  She  had  learnt 
to  taste  the  deep  sweetness  of  solitary  communion  with  the  Lord 
in  order  to  renew  her  strength  for  duty.  But  day  by  day  this 
was  made  impossible  in  ways  exquisitely  trying.  For  a  time  her 
spiritual  prosperity  was  greatly  disturbed.  But  soon  she  saw  that 
even  in  this  there  lay  hidden  the  will  of  God,  and  that  while  the 
difficulty  lasted  she  was  accordingly  to  welcome  it  as  from  Him. 
By  His  grace  she  did  so,  and  with  the  surrender,  with  the  trust, 
there  came  to  her  a  larger  and  fuller  experience  of  peace  than 
she  had  ever  known  when  time  seemed  at  her  own  disposal.^ 

^  There  is  a  work  for  all  of  us,  and  there  is  a  work  for  each, 
work  which  I  cannot  do  in  a  crowd,  or  as  one  of  a  mass,  but  as 
one  man,  acting  singly,  according  to  my  own  gifts,  and  under  a 
sense  of  my  personal  responsibility.  There  is  no  doubt  associated 
work  for  me  to  do.  I  must  do  my  work  as  part  of  the  world's 
great  whole,  or  as  a  member  of  some  great  body.  But  I  have  a 
special  work  to  do,  as  one  individual,  who  by  God's  plan  and 
appointment  has  a  separate  position,  separate  responsibilities,  and 
a  separate  work ;  if  I  do  not  do  it,  it  must  be  left  undone.  No 
one  of  my  special  fellows  can  do  that  special  work  for  me  which 
I  have  come  into  the  world  to  do ;  he  may  do  a  higher  work,  a 
greater  work,  but  he  cannot  do  my  work.  I  cannot  hand  over 
my  work  to  him,  any  more  than  I  can  hand  over  my  responsi- 
bilities or  my  gifts.^ 

(2)  We  shall  regard  all  the  tasks  of  life  as  golden  opportunities 
to  further  a  great  purpose.  After  having  seen  the  sordidness  and 
meanness  and  littleness  of  things,  David  still  held  that  life  is  a 
grand,  free,  glorious  gift,  that  it  is  liberty  and  opportunity  and 
hope.  What  was  the  secret  of  his  wide  and  worthy  view  of  life  ? 
How  had  he  escaped  these  narrower  and  meaner  thoughts  that 
crowd  into  men's  minds  and  belittle  their  lives  ?  He  had  laid 
hold  upon  God.  He  looked  at  life  through  the  Divine  purpose. 
He  found  the  high  and  noble  meaning  of  the  dusty  parable  that 

1  H.  C.  G.  Moule,  All  in  Christ,  207. 
^Buskin. 


62 


ROOM  TO  LIVE 


men  call  the  day's  work.  When  he  talks  of  life  as  a  large  room, 
it  is  really  his  way  of  saying,  "  Thy  service  is  perfect  freedom." 
If  life  is  lived  to  God,  then  it  is  wider  than  any  man  can  measure. 

T[  The  Booth  children  were  left  in  no  mist  of  doubt  as  to  their 
future.  There  was  an  end,  a  point,  a  purpose,  in  their  life.  They 
grew  up  in  an  atmosphere  of  decision.  Many  children  are  made 
timid,  diffident,  ineffective  by  their  training.  They  are  constantly 
told  how  naughty  they  are,  till  they  begin  to  believe  that  they 
are  good  for  nothing.  The  Booth  parents  acted  on  a  different 
principle.  They  had  faith  in  their  children  and  for  their  children. 
When  Katie  was  still  a  little  girl  in  socks,  her  mother  would  say 
to  her,  "  Now,  Katie,  you  are  not  here  in  this  world  for  yourself. 
You  have  been  sent  for  others.    The  world  is  waiting  for  you!'  ^ 

^  It  was  the  strange  fancy  of  a  little  child,  writes  George 
MacDonald,  as  he  stood  on  a  summer's  evening  looking  intently 
and  thoughtfully  at  the  great  banks  of  clouds  piled  like  mountains 
of  glory  about  the  setting  sun :  "  Mother,  I  wish  I  could  be  a 
painter."  "  Why,  my  child  ? "  "  For  then  I  would  help  God  to 
paint  the  clouds  and  the  sunsets."  It  was  a  strange  and  beauti- 
ful aspiration.  But  our  commonest  work  in  this  world  may  be 
made  far  nobler  than  that.  We  may  live  to  touch  hues  of  loveli- 
ness in  immortal  spirits  which  shall  endure  for  ever.  Clouds  dis- 
solve and  float  away.  The  most  gorgeous  sunset  splendours 
vanish  in  a  few  moments.  The  artist's  canvas  crumbles  and  his 
wondrous  creations  fade.  But  work  done  for  Christ  endures  for 
ever.  A  life  of  simple  consecration  leaves  a  trace  of  imperishable 
beauty  on  everything  it  touches.  Not  great  deeds  alone,  but  the 
smallest,  the  obscurest,  the  most  prosaic,  write  their  record  in 
fadeless  lines.^ 

^  It  is  possible  to  bring  near  that  far-distant  world  and  to 
hold  it  in  our  hearts.  When  the  soul's  revealing-glass  is  brought 
to  bear  upon  it — when  eternity  swims  like  a  new  world  into  our 
ken — how  differently  does  life  look  in  the  light  of  that  revelation  ! 
The  light  of  eternity  playing  about  the  things  of  time,  how  it 
changes  everything !  How  differently  now  shall  our  life  be  led, 
once  that  vision  has  begun  to  be  ours !  In  this  light  we  see  our 
life  and  work  at  a  new  angle,  and  we  change  our  minds  as  to  the 
things  that  are  big  with  importance  and  the  things  that  are  of 
little  value.  We  see  that  things  are  large  or  small,  not  so  much 
from  the  comparison  they  make  with  one  another,  but  according 
as  they  have  in  them  the  elements  of  eternal  meaning  and 

1  J.  Strahan,  The  MaHchaU  (1913),  10. 
«  J.  R.  Miller,  Week-Day  Religion,  90. 


PSALM  XXXI.  8 


63 


purpose.  As  to  our  life's  work,  it  is  not  so  much  what  we  are 
doing  or  where  we  are  doing  it,  as  it  is  how  we  are  doing  it  and 
with  what  purpose  in  view.  The  case  is  well  put  by  Professor 
Drummond  in  his  own  clear-cut  way.  "  An  office  is  not  a  place 
for  making  money,  it  is  a  place  for  making  character.  A  work- 
shop is  not  a  place  for  making  machinery,  it  is  a  place  for  making 
men.  ...  A  school  of  learning  is  not  so  much  a  place  for  making 
scholars,  as  a  place  for  making  souls.  And  he  who  would  ripen 
and  perfect  the  eternal  element  in  his  being  will  do  this  by 
attending  to  the  religious  uses  of  his  daily  task,  recognizing  the 
unseen  in  the  seen,  and  so  turning  three-fourths  of  each  day's  life 
into  an  ever-acting  means  of  grace."  In  his  picturesque  study  of 
Lazarus  brought  back  to  earth  again  from  heaven,  Browning 
seeks  to  show  the  effect  that  the  heavenly  vision  will  have  on  a 
man  who  must  still  walk  the  earth.  It  will  mean  for  him  a 
reversal  of  the  world's  judgments  as  to  the  meaning  of  things 
and  the  proportion  of  values.  And  it  will  mean  for  those  who 
watch  him  a  feeling  of  his  unfitness  for  playing  his  part  as  a 
successful  man  of  the  world  in  the  affairs  of  this  life. 

The  man  is  witless  of  the  size,  the  sum, 
The  value  in  proportion  of  all  things, 
Or  whether  it  be  little  or  be  much.^ 

^  The  type  may  be  as  crude  and  clumsy  as  were  the  first 
wooden  pieces  of  Faust  and  Gutenberg,  but  if  the  thought  be  deep 
and  great  the  imperfection  of  the  medium  through  which  it  finds 
its  way  to  the  mind  is  of  small  account ;  the  conditions  in  which 
we  pass  this  mortal  life  may  be  hard  and  uncongenial,  but  if  they 
convey  spiritual  truths  to  us,  and  make  us  aware  of  spiritual 
realities,  it  were  cowardly  to  complain  and  ignorant  to  rebel. 
The  wise  traveller,  to  whom  the  great  scenery  or  the  great  art  of 
the  world  is  accessible,  does  not  waste  his  time  on  the  discomforts 
of  travel  or  allow  his  thoughts  to  dwell  on  the  shortcomings  of 
his  inn.  The  measure  of  a  man's  soul  is  his  ability  to  disregard 
the  hindrances  and  concentrate  his  energy  on  the  achievement; 
to  put  aside  the  accidents  of  a  relation,  a  work,  an  opportunity, 
and  grasp  the  reality.  If  there  is,  as  a  wise  poet  has  told  us,  a 
soul  of  goodness  in  things  evil,  there  is  much  more  certainly  a 
soul  of  beauty  within  the  form  of  all  relations  and  duties  and 
works ;  and  he  who  is  able  to  carry  all  his  relationships,  duties, 
and  work  to  the  mount  where  the  patterns  are,  to  the  light  of  the 
spiritual  order  where  these  mortal  things  instantly  put  on  immor- 
tality, has  read  the  open  secret  and  pierced  the  mystery  of  life.^ 

^  J.  B.  Maclean,  The  Secret  of  the  Stream,  145. 
2  H.  W.  Mabie,  The  Life  of  the  Spirit,  282. 


64 


ROOM  TO  LIVE 


God  and  Man  are  free. 
Where  Freedom  is,  no  other  cause  is  sure. 

Is  Purpose  then  Foreknowledge? — Human  will 

May  yield  and  fail  to  win  the  victory : 

And  God  Himself,  it  may  be,  turns  and  bends 

His  purposes  to  further  human  ends, 

Stooping  to  serve  His  servant;  so  that  still 

We  find  no  Purpose  that  is  Prophecy. 

But  where  both  wills,  the  human  and  Divine 

Are  yoked  together,  where  God  ratifies 

The  struggling  purposes  of  man, — there  lies 

The  law  unchangeable,  the  fixed  decree 

That  nought  in  earth  or  heaven  shall  undermine.^ 

ii.  Add  Eternity  to  Life. 

By  bringing  eternity  into  life  we  make  it  a  large  place. 
Everything  we  do  has  an  effect,  an  effect  upon  ourselves,  that  is 
eternal.  That  is  the  recognition  of  eternity,  and  to  bring  this 
conception  into  life  is  to  make  it  a  very  wide  room.  We  find  life 
small  and  tedious  because  the  work  we  do  seems  so  petty  and 
ineffective.  What  we  do  to-day  we  have  to  do  again  to-morrow, 
still  again  the  third  day,  and  so  continually.  The  baker  bakes 
his  bread,  but  to-morrow  it  is  all  eaten  and  he  has  to  bake  another 
batch,  and  day  after  day  to  go  on  baking.  It  seems  hopeless  to 
try  to  feed  his  customers.  "My  work  is  never  done,"  we  con- 
stantly hear.  It  is  generally  the  housewife  who  says  it.  What 
is  the  use  of  cooking,  sweeping,  dusting  and  tidying,  when  to- 
morrow she  has  to  cook,  sweep,  dust  and  tidy  again,  and  all  the 
to-morrows  of  her  life  to  repeat  the  programme?  Our  work 
seems  so  futile  that  the  life  spent  in  doing  it  appears  petty,  small, 
unworthy.  Yes  ;  but  it  is  so  in  appearance  only.  It  is  not  really 
so.  By  our  daily  work  we  are  manufacturing  for  eternity.  We 
are  making,  or  we  are  marring,  characters  that  will  last  for  ever. 
We  are  developing,  or  we  are  destroying,  souls  that  will  go  on 
with  this  handiwork  upon  them  into  eternity.  We  are  fitting,  or 
we  are  unfitting,  ourselves  to  dwell  for  ever  in  the  holy  light  of 
God. 

^  If  this  life  is  all,  then  the  horizon  is  near,  and  the  whole 
scope  and  outlook  of  man's  highest  life  cramped  and  fettered.  To 

^  Roger  Heath,  Beginnings,  56. 


PSALM  XXXI.  8 


65 


many  a  soul  it  would  be  a  bondage  almost  as  grim  as  the  bondage 
of  Egypt.  " Mas'r,"  pleads  Tom,  the  slave  of  Uncle  Toms  Cabin, 
as  he  is  threatened  with  death,  "  after  yeVe  killed  the  body  there 
ain't  no  more  ye  can  do.  You  may  whip  me,  starve  me,  burn  me, 
it'll  only  send  me  sooner  where  I  want  to  go."  From  the  fire  and 
water,  the  cruel  terror  of  his  fellow,  this  pure  and  beautiful  soul 
was  to  pass  to  its  vindication  and  eternal  rest.  We  are  always 
reaching  our  limits ;  there  are  things  we  cannot  do,  ideals  we 
cannot  attain,  powers  we  cannot  conquer,  service  we  cannot  render, 
but  with  the  breaking  of  the  morning  when  the  spirit  enters  the 
Homeland,  then  surely  we  must  believe  we  shall  see  those  limits 
crossed.  We  shall  be  in  a  wealthy  place,  there  will  be  a  fuller, 
richer  life.^ 

'Tis  a  long  road  home ; 
But  sleep  for  aching  eyes, 

Best  for  weary  feet, 
For  striving  hearts  a  prize, 
Silence  still  and  sweet, 
Wait  at  the  end  of  the  long  road  home. 

'Tis  a  hard  road  home ; 
Many  faint  and  lag 

Beneath  the  heavy  pack, 
With  feet  and  hearts  that  drag, 
But  none  looks  back — 
We  know  there's  an  end  to  the  hard  road  home. 


'Tis  a  dark  road  home. 

With  shadows  long  and  deep, 
Where  timid  travellers  fall, 
And  scarce  their  path  may  keep; 
But  the  Light  that  shines  for  all 
Gleams  at  the  end  of  the  dark  road  home. 

1  C.  F.  Perry. 


PS.  xxv.-cxix. — 5 


i 


The  Beatitude  of  Forgiveness. 


67 


Literature. 


Adams  (J.),  Sermons  in  Syntax,  45. 

Dunbar  (J.  W.),  The  Beatitudes  of  the  Old  Testament,  129. 

Keble  (J.),  Sermons  for  the  Christian  Year  :  Lent  to  Passiontidc,  260. 

Mackay  (J.  J.),  Recent  Letters  of  Christ,  124. 

Meyer  (F.  B,),  The  Directory  of  the  Devout  Life,  15. 

Price  (A.  C),  Fifty  Sermons,  i.  345. 

Ritchie  (A.),  Sermon?  from  St.  Ignatius^  Pulpit,  42. 

Smellie  (A.),  In  the  Hour  of  Silence,  303. 

Wilmot-Buxton  (H.  J.),  In  Many  Keys,  102. 

Children's  Pulpit :  Second  Sunday  after  Christmas,  ii.  204. 

Church  of  England  Pulpit,  xxviii.  301. 

Church  Year  Booh,  1912,  p.  49. 


68 


The  Beatitude  of  Forgiveness. 


Blessed  is  he  whose  transgression  is  forgiven,  whose  sin  is  covered. 
Blessed  is  the  man  unto  whom  the  Lord  imputeth  not  iniquity, 
And  in  whose  spirit  there  is  no  guile.— Ps.  xxxii.  i,  2. 

These  words  form  the  preface  to  a  psalm  generally  understood 
to  have  been  written  in  connexion  with  the  great  sin  of  David's 
life.  It  sings  of  that  happy  time  when  he  had  repented  of  his 
iniquity,  when  he  had  sought  mercy  and  had  found  it,  and  then 
poured  out  the  joy  of  his  heart.  It  is  no  marvel  that  his  pent-up 
feelings  burst  forth  in  such  words  as  these,  for  the  experience 
through  which  he  had  passed  had  been  peculiarly  dark  and  bitter. 
He  tells  here  of  the  misery  which  he  had  undergone.  He  had 
kept  silence,  he  says,  with  the  result  that  his  very  bones  had 
waxed  old,  and  his  moisture  had  been  turned  into  the  drought  of 
summer.  He  would  not  confess,  he  would  not  repent.  To  a  man 
with  the  open  nature  of  David  that  would  mean  unspeakable 
wretchedness,  but  he  persevered  in  it  month  after  month  till  the 
mission  of  Nathan  the  prophet  broke  through  his  sulky  reserve, 
and  let  loose  the  springs  of  his  being.  And  then  how  measureless 
his  peace  and  joy !  Probably  no  man  has  ever  felt  more  deeply 
than  he  the  blessing  of  forgiveness.  He  entered  into  a  new  world, 
and  being  a  poet  he  could  not  refrain  from  giving  expression  to 
his  bliss  in  this  beautiful  poem,  which  begins  with  the  outburst, 
"Blessed  is  he  whose  transgression  is  forgiven,  whose  sin  is 
covered." 

This  psalm  has  been  selected  by  the  Church  for  one  of  the 
"seven  penitential  psalms."  It  forms  a  part  of  the  service  of  the 
synagogue  on  the  great  Day  of  Atonement.  Yet  it  is  almost  as 
much  jubilant  as  penitent.  The  writer,  while  very  sensible  of  his 
sin,  is  still  more  sensible  of  the  fact  that  his  sin  is  pardoned. 
While  his  first  words  breathe  content  and  gratitude,  his  last  are  a 
shout  of  rejoicing  (ver.  10).^ 

*  G.  Rawlinson. 
69 


70  THE  BEATITUDE  OF  FORGIVENESS 


^  Ewald  says :  "  The  song  is  manifestly  ancient,  original 
throughout,  evidencing  a  strong  spirit.  Hardly  could  the  inner 
misery  of  a  lacerated  heart,  together  with  the  higher  happiness  of 
one  again  reconciled  and  healed,  be  described  with  more  inward- 
ness, impressiveness,  and  power  than  here.  The  harder  the 
struggle  in  his  heart,  so  much  more  glorious  is  the  victory,  so 
much  more  limpid  and  joyous  is  the  stream  of  the  earnest  word. 
The  colour  also  of  the  language  is  Davidic,  and  there  is  no  reason 
to  doubt  that  it  was  sung  after  the  transaction  recorded  in  2  Sam. 
xii." 

I. 

The  Eeality  of  Forgiveness. 

Forgiveness  is  a  reality  on  God's  part,  because  sin  is  a  reality 
on  our  part.  Forgiveness,  or  justification,  is  sometimes  spoken  of 
as  "treating  the  sinner  as  though  he  had  not  sinned."  This, 
however,  is  but  loose,  figurative  language.  Forgiveness  implies 
sin,  disobedience  to  God's  law.  Therefore  God  is  bound,  as  the 
Eighteous  One,  to  take  account  of  sin.  He  must  condemn  or 
pardon  it.  And  our  Lord  Himself  speaks  of  forgiveness  as  a 
definite  act.    "  Son,  be  of  good  cheer ;  thy  sins  be  forgiven  thee." 

1.  The  Psalmist  views  sin  under  three  aspects. 

(1)  First,  he  calls  it  transgression.  In  its  literal  sense  this 
means  separation,  or  rending  apart,  or  departure,  and  so  comes 
to  express  the  notion  of  apostasy  and  rebellion.  All  sin  is  a 
departure  from  God.  It  is  treacherous  rebellion.  That  is  to  say, 
it  has  relation  not  only  to  a  law,  but  to  a  Lawgiver.  It  is  not 
merely  a  departure  from  what  is  right,  it  is  treason  against  God. 
It  not  only  breaks  some  impersonal  ideal  of  duty,  but  it  is  an  act 
of  rebellion  against  a  loving  Will  which  is  in  definite  relations  to 
me.  And  so  it  assumes  a  far  graver  and  more  solemn  aspect  than 
when  we  think  of  it  as  being  merely  a  breach  of  law,  a  traversing 
of  duty,  a  crime  against  conscience,  or  society,  or  public  opinion, 
or  expediency,  or  some  abstract  idea  of  morality.  It  is  all  these, 
but  it  is  something  much  worse  than  these.  The  inmost  recesses 
of  the  ugliness  and  wickedness  of  the  wicked  and  ugly  thing  is 
this,  that  it  throws  into  disorder  our  relations  to  a  living  person, 
that  it  is  rebellion  against  the  Living  God. 


PSALM  XXXII.  I,  2 


71 


^  There  is  in  man  an  instinct  of  revolt,  an  enemy  of  all  law, 
a  rebel  which  will  stoop  to  no  yoke,  not  even  that  of  reason,  duty, 
and  wisdom.  This  element  in  us  is  the  root  of  all  sin — das 
radicale  Bose  of  Kant.  The  independence  which  is  the  condition 
of  individuality  is  at  the  same  time  the  eternal  temptation  of  the 
individual.  That  which  makes  us  beings  makes  us  also  sinners. 
Sin  is,  then,  in  our  very  marrow,  it  circulates  in  us  like  the  blood 
in  our  veins,  it  is  mingled  with  all  our  substance.  Or  rather  I  am 
wrong :  temptation  is  our  natural  state,  but  sin  is  not  necessary. 
Sin  consists  in  the  voluntary  confusion  of  the  independence  which 
is  good  with  the  independence  which  is  bad ;  it  is  caused  by  the 
half-indulgence  granted  to  a  first  sophism.  We  shut  our  eyes  to 
the  beginnings  of  evil  because  they  are  small,  and  in  this  weakness 
is  contained  the  germ  of  our  defeat.  Frincipiis  ohsta — this  maxim 
dutifully  followed  would  preserve  us  from  almost  all  our  catas- 
trophes. We  will  have  no  other  master  but  our  caprice — that  is 
to  say,  our  evil  self  will  have  no  God,  and  the  foundation  of  our 
nature  is  seditious,  impious,  insolent,  refractory,  opposed  to  and 
contemptuous  of  all  that  tries  to  rule  it,  and  therefore  contrary  to 
order,  ungovernable  and  negative.  It  is  this  foundation  which 
Christianity  calls  the  natural  man.  But  the  savage  which  is 
within  us,  and  constitutes  the  primitive  stuff  of  us,  must  be 
disciplined  and  civilized  in  order  to  produce  a  man.  And  the 
man  must  be  patiently  cultivated  to  produce  a  wise  man,  and  the 
wise  man  must  be  tested  and  tried  if  he  is  to  become  righteous. 
And  the  righteous  man  must  have  substituted  the  will  of  God  for 
his  individual  will,  if  he  is  to  become  a  saint.^ 

(2)  Then  another  aspect  of  sin  rises  before  the  Psalmist's  mind. 
This  evil  which  he  has  done,  which  probably  was  the  sin  in  the 
matter  of  Bathsheba,  was  not  only  rebellion  against  God,  but  it 
was,  according  to  this  text,  in  the  second  clause,  "  a  sin,"  by  which 
is  meant  literally  missing  an  aim.  So  this  word,  in  its  pregnant 
meaning,  corresponds  with  the  signification  of  the  ordinary  New 
Testament  word  for  sin,  which  also  implies  error,  or  missing  that 
which  ought  to  be  the  goal  of  our  lives.  That  is  to  say,  whilst 
the  former  word  regarded  the  evil  deed  mainly  in  its  relation  to 
God,  this  word  regards  it  mainly  in  its  relation  to  ourselves,  and 
that  which  before  Him  is  rebellion — the  assertion  of  our  own 
individuality  and  our  own  will,  and  therefore  in  separation  from 
His  will — is,  considered  in  reference  to  ourselves,  fatally  missing 
the  mark  to  which  our  whole  energy  and  effort  ought  to  be 
*  AmieVs  Journal  (trans,  by  Mrs.  Humphry  Ward),  164. 


72  THE  BEATITUDE  OF  FORGIVENESS 


directed.  All  sin,  big  or  little,  is  a  blunder.  It  is  a  blunder  even 
if  it  hits  what  it  aims  at,  for  it  aims  at  the  wrong  thing.  So 
doubly,  all  transgression  is  folly,  and  the  true  name  for  the  doer 
is  "  Thou  fool ! "  For  every  evil  misses  the  mark  which,  regard 
being  had  to  the  man's  obvious  destiny,  he  ought  to  aim  at. 
"  Man's  chief  end  is  to  glorify  God  and  to  enjoy  Him  for  ever  " ; 
and  whosoever  in  all  his  successes  fails  to  realize  that  end  is  a 
failure  through  and  through,  in  whatever  smaller  matters  he  may 
seem  to  himself  and  to  others  to  succeed. 

IF  Full  of  far  deeper  love  for  what  I  remember  of  Turner 
himself,  as  I  become  better  capable  of  understanding  it,  I  find 
myself  more  and  more  helpless  to  explain  his  errors  and  his  sins. 
His  errors,  I  might  say,  simply.  Perhaps,  some  day,  people  will 
again  begin  to  remember  the  force  of  the  old  Greek  word  for  sin  ; 
and  to  learn  that  all  sin  is  in  essence — "Missing  the  mark"; 
losing  sight  or  consciousness  of  heaven ;  and  that  this  loss  may  be 
various  in  its  guilt ;  it  cannot  be  judged  by  us.^ 

(3)  But  the  Psalmist  sees  in  his  own  past  behaviour  not  only 
rebellion  and  failure,  but  iniquity — that  is,  something  twisted  or 
distorted.  His  conduct  is  thus  brought  into  contrast  with  the 
right  line  of  the  plain,  straight  path  in  which  we  ought  to  walk. 
We  have  the  same  metaphor  in  our  own  language.  We  talk 
about  things  being  right  and  wrong,  by  which  we  mean,  in  the 
one  case,  parallel  with  the  rigid  law  of  duty,  and  in  the  other  case, 
"  wrung,"  or  wavering,  crooked  and  divergent  from  it.  There  is 
a  standard  as  well  as  a  Judge,  and  we  have  to  think  of  evil  not 
only  as  being  rebellion  against  God  and  separation  from  Him,  and 
as,  for  ourselves,  issuing  in  fatal  missing  of  the  mark,  but  also  as 
being  divergent  from  the  one  manifest  law  to  which  we  ought  to 
be  conformed.  The  path  to  God  is  a  right  line ;  the  shortest  road 
from  earth  to  Heaven  is  absolutely  straight. 

^  Every  person  of  a  mature  age,  and  in  his  right  mind, 
remembers  turns  or  crises  in  his  life,  where  he  met  the  question  of 
wrong  face  to  face,  and  by  a  hard  inward  struggle  broke  through 
the  sacred  convictions  of  duty  that  rose  up  to  fence  him  back.  It 
was  some  new  sin  to  which  he  had  not  become  familiar,  so  much 
worse  perhaps  in  degree  as  to  be  the  entrance  to  him  consciously 
of  a  new  stage  of  guilt.  He  remembers  how  it  shook  his  soul  and 
even  his  body;  how  he  shrunk  in  guilty  anticipation  from  the 

^  Riiskin,  Modem  Painters^  v.  pt.  ix.  chap.  xii.  ( Works,  vii.  441). 


PSALM  XXXII.  I,  2 


73 


new  step  of  wrong ;  the  sublime  misgiving  that  seized  him,  the 
awkward  and  but  half-possessed  manner  in  which  it  was  taken, 
and  then  afterward,  perhaps  even  after  years  have  passed  away, 
•how,  in  some  quiet  hour  of  the  day  or  the  wakeful  hour  of  night, 
as  the  recollection  of  that  deed — not  a  public  crime,  but  a  wrong, 
or  an  act  of  vice — returned  upon  him,  the  blood  rushed  back  for 
the  moment  on  his  fluttering  heart,  the  pores  of  his  skin  opened, 
and  a  kind  of  agony  of  shame  and  self-condemnation,  in  one  word 
of  remorse,  seized  his  whole  person.  This  is  the  consciousness, 
the  guilty  pang,  of  sin ;  every  man  knows  what  it  is.^ 

2.  Corresponding  to  the  three  terms  for  sin,  there  are  three 
expressions  to  signify  its  removal.  The  first  word  means  taken 
away  or  lifted  off,  as  a  burden  from  aching  shoulders.  It  implies 
more  than  holding  back  penal  consequences ;  it  is  the  removal  of 
sin  itself,  and  that  not  merely  in  the  multitudinousness  of  its 
manifestations  in  act,  but  in  the  depth  of  its  inward  source.  This 
is  the  metaphor  which  Bunyan  has  made  so  familiar  by  his  picture 
of  the  pilgrim  losing  his  load  at  the  cross.  The  second  ("  covered  ") 
paints  pardon  as  God's  shrouding  the  foul  thing  from  His  pure 
eyes,  so  that  His  action  is  no  longer  determined  by  its  existence. 
The  third  describes  forgiveness  as  God's  not  reckoning  a  man's 
sin  to  him,  in  which  expression  hovers  some  allusion  to  cancelling 
a  debt. 

(1)  Sin  is  here  pictured  as  a  burden,  lying  on  the  soul. 
Every  sin  we  commit  is  making  that  burden  larger  and  heavier. 
We  do  not  say  it  is  felt  to  be  heavier ;  that  would  be  the  sense  of 
sin.  The  burden  is  there,  whether  it  be  felt  or  not,  and  it  always 
grows.  If  the  burden  of  his  sin  remains  on  any  sinner  it  will  sink 
him  into  ruin.  Surely,  then,  he  is  a  happy  man  whose  burden  of 
sin  is  lifted  off.  "  Oh,  the  blessedness  of  the  man  whose  burden  of 
sin  is  lifted  off ! "  Why  is  he  a  blessed  man  ?  Because  when  the 
burden  of  sin  goes,  other  things  must  go  with  it.  When  this 
burden  is  lifted  off,  the  sentence  of  death  against  the  sinner  is 
cancelled  for  ever,  the  gates  of  hell  are  closed  against  him  and 
will  never  open  to  admit  him,  and  heaven's  gates  are  open  in  a 
new  sense,  in  that  they  never  can  be  closed  till  he  is  inside. 

^  The  most  persistent  symbol  of  Conscience  in  this  first  stage 
is  the  "  burden  " — a  simple  but  picturesque  emblem  of  a  sense  of 

1  T.  T.  Hunger,  Horace  Bushnell,  218. 


74  THE  BEATITUDE  OF  FORGIVENESS 


guilt.  It  is  on  him,  though  behind  him ;  it  is  oppressive,  though 
it  leaves  his  limbs  all  free  for  action  or  advance  ;  it  is  rather  felt 
than  seen.  Somewhat  characteristic  it  is  of  Bunyan's  Christian 
that  this  burden  of  his  is  "  great."  ^ 

^  In  1881,  when  he  was  nearing  his  end,  Dante  Gabriel 
Eossetti,  though  an  agnostic,  became  very  anxious  for  confession 
and  absolution.  It  was  suggested  to  him  that  absolution  was 
contrary  to  his  pronounced  views.  But  he  said,  "I  don't  care 
about  that.  I  can  make  nothing  of  Christianity,  but  I  only  want 
a  confessor  to  give  me  absolution  of  my  sins,"  adding,  "  I  believe 
in  a  future  life — what  I  want  now  is  absolution  for  my  sins, 
that's  all."  2 

(2)  Again,  sin  is  pictured  as  inward  pollution  and  filthiness, 
which  must  be  covered  before  there  can  be  true  blessedness. 
But  not  every  kind  of  "  covering "  will  suffice.  Many  ways  of 
covering  sins  bring  no  blessing,  but  a  curse.  Some  people  spend 
much  time  and  trouble,  and  exercise  great  ingenuity,  in  covering 
up  their  sins.  They  dig  deep  graves  in  which  they  seek  to  bury 
them,  but  every  sin  they  bury  is  going  to  have  a  resurrection. 
Such  coverings  never  bring  any  blessedness.  "  He  that  covereth 
his  sins  shall  not  prosper."  The  Psalmist  tried  for  a  year  to  bury 
his  sin.    Did  he  succeed  ?    Was  it  a  happy  year  ?    Note  what 

'  he  says  about  that  time :  "  When  I  kept  silence,  my  bones  waxed 
old  through  my  roaring  all  the  day  long.  For  day  and  night  thy 
hand  was  heavy  upon  me:  my  moisture  is  turned  into  the 
drought  of  summer."  When  he  is  brought  to  a  right  frame  of 
mind  he  no  longer  tries  to  cover  up  his  sin,  but  says,  "  My  sin  is 
ever  before  me."  "  I  acknowledge  my  sin  unto  thee,  and  mine 
iniquity  have  I  not  hid." 

^  Bees  in  their  hives,  when  there  is  anything  corrupt  and 
too  large  for  them  to  remove,  fling  a  covering  of  wax  over  it, 
and  hermetically  seal  it,  and  no  foul  odour  comes  from  it.  And 
so  a  man's  sin  is  covered  over  and  ceases  to  be  in  evidence,  as  it 
were,  before  the  Divine  Eye  that  sees  all  things.  He  Himself 
casts  a  merciful  veil  over  it  and  hides  it  from  Himself.^ 

(3)  The  third  picture  of  sin  is  perhaps  the  most  striking  of 
all.    It  means :  "  I  am  a  debtor,  over  head  and  ears  in  debt,  but 

^  J.  A.  Kerr  Bain,  The  People  of  the  Pilgrimage,  i.  51. 
2  A.  C.  Benson,  Life  of  D.  0.  EosseUi,  71. 
'  A.  Maclaren. 


PSALM  XXXII.  I,  2 


75 


the  debt  is  not  charged  or  reckoned  against  me  at  all."  Still 
more,  it  means :  "  I  am  guilty,  yet  the  righteous  Judge  justly 
pronounces  me  not  guilty."  How  can  that  be  possible?  Let 
the  Apostle  Paul  explain.  He  says  that  "David  describes  the 
blessedness  of  the  man  to  whom  the  Lord  imputeth  righteousness 
without  works,"  and  he  quotes  the  text  to  prove  this.  David 
did  not  say  one  word  about righteousness  without  works."  What 
does  St.  Paul  mean  by  saying  he  did  ?  The  simple  fact  is  that 
St.  Paul  supplements  David ;  he  gives  the  positive  side,  in  addi- 
tion to  David's  negative  side  of  the  double  transaction.  St.  Paul 
has  his  eye  on  Christ.  If  sin  is  not  reckoned  or  charged  against, 
or  put  to  the  account  of,  the  believing  sinner,  it  is  because  it  has 
been  imputed,  reckoned,  charged  against,  or  put  to  the  account 
of  Christ.  And  if  ** righteousness  without  works"  is  imputed, 
reckoned  to,  or  put  to  the  account  of,  the  believing  sinner,  it  is 
because  of  what  Christ  had  done.  "Him  who  knew  no  sin  he 
made  to  be  sin  on  our  behalf ;  that  we  [who  knew  no  righteous- 
ness] might  become  the  righteousness  of  God  in  him." 

^  A  very  common  idea  of  the  object  of  the  gospel  is,  that  it 
is  to  show  how  men  may  obtain  pardon;  whereas,  in  truth,  its 
object  is  to  show  how  pardon  for  men  has  been  obtained,  or  rather 
to  show  how  God  has  taken  occasion,  by  the  entrance  of  sin  into 
the  world,  to  manifest  the  unsearchable  riches  of  holy  compassion. 
I  have  observed  that  even  the  phrase  free  offer  of  pardon  is  so 
interpreted  that  the  very  existence  of  the  pardon  is  made  to 
depend  on  the  acceptance  of  the  offer.  The  benefit  of  the  pardon 
does  most  assuredly  depend  on  its  being  accepted,  but  the 
pardon  itself  is  laid  up  in  Christ  Jesus,  and  depends  on  nothing 
but  the  unchangeable  character  of  God.^ 

3.  The  condition  of  forgiveness. — The  last  clause  of  the  text, 
"  In  whose  spirit  there  is  no  guile,"  seems  to  refer  to  the  frank 
sincerity  of  a  confession.  He  is  not  like  the  self-righteous  sinner 
who  tries  to  tell  lies  to  God,  and,  attempting  to  deceive  Him, 
really  deceives  only  himself.  Whoever  opens  his  heart  to  God, 
makes  a  clean  breast  of  it,  and  without  equivocation  or  self- 
deception  or  the  palliations  which  self-love  teaches,  says,  "I 
have  played  the  fool  and  erred  exceedingly " — to  that  man,  the 
Psalmist  thinks,  pardon  is  sure  to  come. 

*  Letters  of  Thomas  Erskine  of  Linlathen,  i.  379, 


76  THE  BEATITUDE  OF  FORGIVENESS 


The  great  question  before  the  niind.  of  the  Psalmist  is  how 
the  burden  of  sin  may  be  removed  not  from  the  Divine  side, 
but  from  the  human,  and  so  he  states  one  necessary  condition 
to  that  removal — confession:  "I  said,  I  will  confess  my  trans- 
gressions unto  the  Lord ;  and  thou  forgavest  the  iniquity  of  my 
sin  "  (ver.  5).  Sin  must  be  confessed  before  it  is  removed.  Till 
a  man  confesses  his  sins  he  hugs  them  to  himself,  and  refuses  to 
part  with  them.  When  he  truly  confesses  them  he  puts  them 
away  by  an  act  of  will.  Not  till  then  are  they  removed.  God 
cannot  forgive  the  man  who  is  impenitent,  for  that  man  will 
presently  sin  again.  He  cannot  forgive,  much  as  He  longs  so  to 
do,  because  there  is  an  obstacle  in  the  way.  Eepentance  removes 
that  obstacle ;  it  opens  the  door  to  the  exercise  of  God's  forgiving 
grace.    The  moment  we  repent  we  are  pardoned. 

^  Excellent  as  repentance  may  be  in  itself,  and  quite  inde- 
pendent of  all  results,  yet  the  one  ultimate  test  of  it  is  amendment 
— amendment,  and  nothing  else.  We  have  done  wrong  and  are 
sorry  for  it.  What  is  the  test  of  the  value  of  our  sorrow  ?  Our 
doing  the  same  thing  no  more.  We  desire  to  be  forgiven.  We 
pray  to  God  for  that  forgiveness.  What  is  to  us  the  certain  seal 
that  He  has  heard  our  prayer,  and  by  the  power  of  His  Son's 
Cross  has  finally  forgiven  us?  The  seal  is  that  we  have  been 
enabled  to  sin  so  no  more.  Put  it  how  you  will,  you  must  always 
come  back  to  that.  I  do  not  say  that  no  repentance  is  worth 
anything  which  is  followed  by  further  falls.  God  forbid.  I  do 
not  say  that  God  never  forgives  until  He  also  makes  the  sin 
impossible.  God  forbid.  But  I  do  say  that  to  ics — to  us  there  is 
no  other  proof  either  of  the  genuineness  of  our  repentance,  or  of 
the  certainty  of  God's  forgiveness.^ 

II. 

The  Blessedness  of  Forgiveness. 

In  all  the  benedictions  of  the  Bible  the  thing  brought 
prominently  into  notice  is  not  the  outward  circumstances  but  the 
inner  state  or  life  of  the  man  who  is  blessed.  Blessedness  does  not 
depend  on  outward  possessions,  such  as  worldly  goods,  or  lands, 
or  high  birth,  or  erudite  culture.  Indeed,  there  are  words  of 
Christ  which  suggest  that  they  who  stand  possessed  of  these 

*  Archbishop  Temple. 


PSALM  XXXII.  I,  2 


77 


things  will  find  it  harder  to  enter  that  Paradise  which  has  not  yet 
faded  from  our  world,  and  to  pass  through  the  gates  of  that  city 
which  are  before  our  eyes,  if  only  they  were  opened  to  discern 
them.  When  He  repeated  the  Sermon  of  the  Mountain-Heights 
and  of  the  Dawn  to  the  multitudes  that  stood  breathless  beneath 
its  spell,  He  said,  "  Woe  unto  you  that  are  rich.  Woe  unto  you 
that  are  full.  Woe  unto  you,  ye  that  laugh."  He  did  not  mean 
that  such  would  be  necessarily  excluded,  but  that  entrance  into 
blessedness  would  be  hard  for  them. 

1.  The  forgiven  soul  enjoys  the  blessedness  of  deliverance.  The 
very  essence  of  the  benediction  is  the  exquisite  sense  of  trans- 
gression forgiven,  sin  covered.  This  royal  sinner  knew  the  felicity 
in  its  full  range.  Through  all  those  weary  months  of  sullen 
silence  which  followed  David's  murder  and  adultery,  he  was  a 
most  miserable  man.  He  knew  that  his  Divine  Judge  had  not 
pardoned  him.  He  was  conscious  all  the  time  of  lying  under  the 
withering  condemnation  of  God.  He  felt  that  his  iniquity  lay 
naked  and  open  to  the  eye  of  Him  with  whom  he  had  to  do.  He 
might  to  some  extent  conceal  his  fault  from  his  fellows,  but  in  all 
its  hideous  enormity  it  was  exposed  to  the  gaze  of  the  Searcher  of 
hearts.  Could  the  king  have  any  peace  or  comfort  under  that 
continual  sense  of  the  silent  sentence  of  Heaven  on  his  conduct  ? 
0  what  a  joyful  man  he  was  when  the  grace  of  God  enabled  him 
to  confess,  I  have  sinned,"  and  the  sweet  response  came,  "  The 
Lord  also  hath  put  away  thy  sin " !  When  he  contrasted  the 
sordid  wretchedness  of  the  preceding  months  with  his  condition, 
now  that  the  springs  of  his  better  nature  had  found  vent,  would 
he  not  feel  that  he  was  in  the  seventh  heaven  ?  It  was  not 
enough  for  him  to  say  that  his  transgression  was  forgiven :  he 
had  to  supplement  that  with  this  other  word,  that  his  sin  was 
covered,  in  order  to  utter  fully  his  felicity.  His  Judge  had 
pardoned  him,  how  much  was  that !  But  was  it  not  even  more 
that  his  Heavenly  Father  had  blotted  out  his  foul  guilt,  so  that 
it  should  be  never  seen  or  remembered  more  ? 

^  Whatever  I  have  studied  of  the  Epistles  of  St.  Paul,  and 
this  has  been  for  many  years,  and  with  as  much  yearning  eager- 
ness and  breathless  awe  as  I  have  felt  in  nothing  except  the 
words  of  the  Lord  Jesus,  has  tended  to  the  confirmation  of  the 


78  THE  BEATITUDE  OF  FORGIVENESS 

old  evangelic  interpretation  of  them,  in  which  perhaps  I  should 
not  have  seen  my  way  so  clearly  but  for  their  accordance  with 
my  own  "experience."  All  that  unutterable  sense  of  sin,  that 
terrible  deadly  fight  with  evil,  those  strivings  of  the  Spirit  I  went 
through,  and  more;  all  that  deliverance,  that  liberty  of  the 
Gospel,  that  being  justified  by  faith  in  Christ,  that  peace  with 
God,  that  shedding  abroad  by  the  Holy  Ghost  of  the  love  of  God 
in  the  heart,  that  coming  in  of  the  "  new  creation  "  ;  all  the  shades 
and  lights  of  experience  since  then.  Twenty-three  years  of  such 
experience,  which  inwardly  is  as  great  and  as  simple  a  fact  as  the 
facts  of  seeing  and  hearing,  make  me  unable  to  receive,  even  to 
perceive,  any  other  interpretation.  And  I  have  met  with  such 
scores  and  hundreds  who  strike  hands  with  me  in  life  and  death 
on  these  great  matters  that  it  is  settled  "  without  controversy " 
to  me.^ 

^  When  Saul  Kane,  the  ill-living  prodigal  whose  "  rake's 
progress"  John  Masefield  has  so  vividly  set  forth  in  his  poem 
The  Everlasting  Mercy,  suffered  his  instant  conversion,  an  im- 
mediate and  wonderful  glory  filled  his  soul. 

I  did  not  think,  I  did  not  strive, 

The  deep  peace  burnt  my  me  alive; 

The  bolted  door  had  broken  in, 

I  knew  that  I  had  done  with  sin. 

I  knew  that  Christ  had  given  me  birth 

To  brother  all  the  souls  on  earth, 

And  every  bird  and  every  beast 

Should  share  the  crumbs  broke  at  the  feast. 

0  glory  of  the  lighted  mind, 

How  dead  I'd  been,  how  dumb,  how  blind. 
The  station-brook  to  my  new  eyes. 
Was  babbhng  out  of  Paradise, 
The  waters  rushing  from  the  rain 
Were  singing,  "  Christ  has  risen  again." 

1  thought  all  earthly  creatures  knelt 
From  rapture  of  the  joy  I  felt. 

The  narrow  station-wall's  brick  ledge, 
The  wild  hop  withering  in  the  hedge, 
The  lights  in  huntsman's  upper  storey 
Were  parts  of  an  eternal  glory, 
Were  God's  eternal  garden  flowers. 
I  stood  in  bliss  at  this  for  hours. 

^  Letters  of  James  Smetham,  234. 


i 


PSALM  XXXII.  I,  2 


79 


0  clover  tops,  half-white,  half-red, 

0  beauty  from  beyond  the  dead, 

0  blossom,  key  to  earth  and  heaven, 

0  souls  that  Christ  has  new  forgiven. 

2.  The  forgiven  soul  is  blessed,  because  the  whole  character 
and  life  are  lifted  to  a  higher  plane.  No  man  can  pass  from 
darkness  to  light,  from  alienation  to  reconciliation,  without  being 
marvellously  transformed  by  the  experience.  His  whole  nature 
is  changed.  That  is  what  we  mean  when  we  contrast  the  effect 
on  the  human  soul  of  the  gospel  of  grace  with  that  produced  by 
the  preaching  of  mere  morality  and  legality.  Sinai  thunders  at 
us  in  vain,  and  the  most  eloquent  exposition  of  the  beauty  of 
virtue  is  apt  to  leave  a  soul  very  much  where  it  found  it ;  but  let 
a  sinner  come  to  believe  that  Christ  died  for  him,  that  God  so 
loved  Him  that  He  spared  not  His  own  Son,  but  delivered  Him 
up  for  the  transgressor,  and  that  in  the  fountain  thus  opened  for 
sin  and  for  uncleanness  his  sins  have  been  washed  away  for  ever, 
then  that  forgiven  soul  will  become  a  living  mass  of  gratitude,  of 
love,  of  devotion  to  Him  whose  grace  has  saved  him.  Through 
all  his  subsequent  life  he  will  be  a  changed  man.  He  will  hate 
iniquity  and  love  holiness.  We  cannot  say  that  he  will  never  sin 
again,  but  never  again  can  he  feel  toward  sin  as  he  did  in  the  days 
before  he  had  drunk  this  wine  of  heaven.  His  character  will  be 
radically  altered,  and  the  life  will  answer,  more  or  less  truly,  to 
the  character. 

^  You  stand  in  some  valley,  and  however  brightly  the  sun 
may  shine,  there  are  shadows ;  you  climb  to  the  summit  of  some 
lofty  hill,  and  it  is  all  sunshine,  and  no  shadows  there.  Even  so, 
if  you  rest  satisfied  with  forgiveness  of  sins  merely,  brightly  as 
that  exhibits  God's  love,  and  wonderful  as  is  the  grace  of  it,  your 
peace,  and  joy,  and  rest  will  be  all  imperfect.  Come  up  into  the 
heavenly  places  in  Christ  J esus ;  get  upon  the  high  tableland  of 
a  really  Christ-life ;  go  on  to  the  realization  of  all  the  "  happinesses  " 
which  are  linked  on  to  forgiveness;  be  a  little  child,  and  take 
God  at  His  word  about  them,  without  cavil  or  question ;  and  then 
your  whole  life  will  be  sunlit  indeed.  Difficulties  and  sorrows 
and  temptations  you  may  have,  and  they  may  multiply  as  you  go 
on;  but  you  will  look  down  upon  them,  instead  of  being  over- 
shadowed by  them :  and  you  will  see,  what  in  the  valley  of  a  low 


8o  THE  BEATITUDE  OF  FORGIVENESS 


life  you  cannot  see,  how  God's  love  lights  them  all  up,  and  how  in 
very  truth  they  all  work  together  for  your  good.^ 

3.  Happy  is  he  whose  sin  is  forgiven,  because  new  relations 
are  established  between  God  and  the  soul.  To  have  passed 
through  this  experience  not  only  changes  a  man's  character,  it 
puts  him  permanently  on  a  new  footing  with  God.  The  pardon 
comes  to  him  as  but  one  part  of  what  we  call  the  Divine  scheme 
of  salvation.  Henceforth  he  does  not  think  of  the  Almighty  as 
his  Judge,  but  rather  as  his  Heavenly  Father.  He  has  been 
adopted  into  the  family  of  the  Most  High,  and  he  knows  that  all 
the  privileges  of  adoption,  in  time  and  eternity,  are  secured  to 
him.  Christ  has  become  to  him  as  an  elder  Brother,  who  is 
preparing  a  place  for  him  in  that  region  of  the  blessed  which  is  to 
be  hereafter  their  common  home. 

This  is  a  side  of  Christian  truth  which  has  not  always  received 
the  attention  it  deserves — a  neglect  the  more  to  be  regretted  that 
the  doctrine  furnishes  the  reply  to  the  objection  sometimes  made, 
that  "justification  "  presents  our  relations  with  God  in  salvation 
in  too  exclusively  "legal"  a  light.  It  would  do  so  if  it  stood 
alone ;  but  it  does  not  stand  alone.  Adoption,  by  certain  writers, 
has  been  treated  as  part  of  justification — as  the  positive  side  of  it, 
in  acceptance.  But  this  is  not  warranted.  If  it  is  wrong  to  merge, 
as  many  do,  God's  character  as  J udge  in  that  of  Father,  it  is  as 
wrong  to  merge  His  character  as  Father  in  that  of  Judge,  and  to 
overlook  the  fact  that  God's  relation  to  us  is  personal  as  well  as 
judicial.  God  does  not  merely  pardon  the  sinner  by  way  of  legal 
acquittal.  There  is  the  outflow  of  paternal  tenderness,  paternal 
forgiveness,  paternal  grace  (cf.  the  Prodigal,  Luke  xv.  20-24); 
and  the  soul  that  comes  to  Him  is  received  by  Him  into  a  re- 
lation of  sonship — not  merely  that  forfeited  sonship  which  was 
its  destination  by  creation,  but  a  relation  of  honour,  nearness,  and 
privilege,  analogous  to  Christ's  own.  "If  children,  then  heirs; 
heirs  of  God,  and  joint-heirs  with  Christ "  (Kom.  viii.  17). 

Here  are  we  dark  and  weak,  yet  are  we  not 
Excluded  from  Thy  glorious  family; 

Pain  to  Thy  children  is  a  transient  lot; 
We  suffer,  that  from  sin  we  may  be  free. 

1  A.  C.  Price. 


PSALM  XXXII.  I,  2 


Angels  and  men,  the  prophet  and  the  child, 
These  all  are  what  they  are  by  gift  of  Thine 

No  break  or  gulf  is  there ;  the  undefiled 
Are  tenderly  made  one  by  birth  divine. 

If  but  a  letter  of  the  all-perfect  name, 
If  but  a  mark  of  the  celestial  pen, 

Distinguish  us,  we  will,  despising  shame, 
Abjuring  self,  live  boldly  among  men. 

Named  after  God!  a  little  like  to  Him, 

In  whom  the  entireness  of  the  name  divine 

Brightly  involved  was  once  by  woes  made  dim. 
But  now  unfolded  shines,  yet  more  to  shine.^ 

1  T.  T.  Lynch,  TJie  Rivulet,  202. 


PS.  xxv.-cxix.— 6 


The  Guiding  Eye. 


«3 


Literature. 


Bourdillon  (F.),  Handfuls,  24. 

Brown  (J.  Baldwin),  The  Sunday  Afternoon,  278. 

Hackett  (W.  S.),  The  Land  of  Your  Sojournings,  37. 

Knight  (G.  H.),  Abiding  Help  for  Changing  Days,  27. 

Matheson  (G.),  Words  by  the  Wayside,  16. 

Meyer  (F.  B.),  Christian  Living,  78. 

Stone  (C.  E.),  Children's  Sunday  Afternoons,  186. 

Vaughan  (J.),  Sermons  (Brighton  Pulpit),  New  Ser.,  xiii.  (1876),  No. 
989. 

Voysey  (C),  Sermons,  ii.  (1879),  No.  1. 

Clergyman's  Magazine,  3rd  Ser.,  xii.  96  (H.  G.  Youard). 

Literary  Churchman,  xx.  (1874)  95. 

Sunday  Magazine,  1880,  p.  140  (R.  H.  Smith). 


84 


The  Guiding  Eye. 


I  will  instruct  thee  and  teach  thee  in  the  way  which  thou  shalt  go : 
I  will  counsel  thee  with  mine  eye  upon  thee.— Ps.  xxxii.  8. 

It  was  at  the  end  of  a  long  and  bitter  trial  that  this  promise  was 
given  to  the  Psalmist.  It  was  by  passing  through  doubt,  per- 
plexity, and  despair  that  he  was  taught  at  last  to  find  his  way 
by  the  light  of  God.  He  had  tried  long  and  desperately  to  be  his 
own  guide,  to  trace  out  a  path  for  himself  through  life,  and  it  was 
after  many  wanderings,  and  many  shameful  falls,  and  much 
misery,  that  he  was  forced  to  confess  that  it  is  not  in  man  that 
walketh  to  direct  his  steps,  and  that  his  only  way  of  safety  is  to 
give  himself  up  to  One  who  will  guide  him  better  than  he  can 
guide  himself.  Feeling  his  ignorance,  and  perplexed  at  times  by 
uncertainty  as  to  his  duty,  he  besought  the  Lord  to  teach  and  to 
guide  him ;  and  the  Lord  heard  him  and  answered  him,  bringing 
strength  to  his  weakness,  light  into  his  darkness,  and  showing  him 
the  way  in  which  he  should  walk. 

•[f  The  beautiful  suggestiveness  of  the  Authorized  Version,  "  I 
will  guide  thee  with  mine  eye,"  need  not  be  wholly  lost,  though 
the  Revised  Version  shows  that  the  Hebrew  does  not  mean  that 
"  a  look  is  enough."  It  means  that  with  a  Divine  word  of  counsel 
in  the  ear,  and  the  eye  of  Providence  watching  from  above,  the 
traveller  in  the  pathway  of  life  will  be  safe.^ 

L 

Our  Need  of  Guidance. 

1.  We  need  guidance  because  we  may  deliberately  reject  God. 
There  are  those  who  may  be  called  the  unbridled :  the  men  who 
care  for  no  restraint ;  whose  whole  life  is  a  challenge,  "  Who  is 
the  Lord,  that  we  should  serve  him  ? "    The  Psalms  are  full  of 

1  W.  T.  Davison. 

V 


86 


THE  GUIDING  EYE 


the  description  of  them.  They  escape  the  eye  and  the  hand  of 
God  to  all  appearance.  But  do  they  indeed  escape  ?  The  mere 
men  of  the  world  are  the  worst  of  slaves ;  and  of  all  men  they 
are  the  most  limited,  checked,  compelled,  by  the  hand  of  God. 
A  hard  bar  meets  them  at  every  turn,  a  check  at  every  breath. 
God  rules  them  though  it  be  with  a  rod  of  iron.  Blind  to  the 
glance  of  His  eye,  they  must  writhe  under  the  pressure  of  His 
hand. 

^  The  pupil  spoke :  "  You  said  once  that  the  tramcar  comes 
to  a  standstill  if  it  loses  connexion  with  the  aerial  wire.  I  know 
that  very  well.  Would  that  my  friends  who  are  atheists  and 
pagans  knew  what  a  relief  it  is  to  find  the  connexion  again.  It 
is  like  diving  in  crystal-clear  sea-water  after  perspiring  in  the 
heat  of  the  dog-days  on  a  dusty  high-road.  The  heart  grows 
light ;  the  systematic  ill-luck  ceases ;  one  has  some  success,  one's 
undertakings  prosper,  one  can  sleep  at  night,  and  neurasthenia 
ceases.  I  remember  how,  after  a  night  of  debauchery,  the  most 
beautiful  landscape  at  sunrise  looked  ghastly ;  while  after  a  night 
of  quiet  sleep  the  same  scene  looked  paradisal.  When  we  gain  the 
certainty,  and  the  belief  founded  on  certainty,  that  life  is  con- 
tinued on  the  other  side,  then  we  find  it  easier  on  this  one,  and  do 
not  hunt  after  trifles  till  we  are  weary.  Then  we  discover  the 
divine  lightheartedness  of  which  Goethe  speaks,  which  finds  ex- 
pression in  a  certain  contempt  of  honours  and  distinction,  pro- 
motion and  money.  We  become  more  insensible  to  blows  and 
abuse.  Everything  goes  more  softly  and  smoothly.  However 
dark  the  surroundings  may  be,  we  become  self-luminous,  so  to 
speak,  and  carry  the  little  pocket-lamp  hope  with  us."  ^ 

2.  There  are  those  whose  hearts  are  divided  between  God  and 
the  world,  and  who  need  constraint  to  keep  them  in  the  right 
way.  Some  things  are  already  settled  in  their  minds  on  the 
subject  of  the  duties  and  the  issues  of  life.  They  know  already 
that  there  is  no  blessing  that  is  really  worth  anything  but 
God's.  They  would  weep  bitterly,  and  feel  that  life  was  utterly 
impoverished,  if  God's  presence  were  gone  from  it,  and  they  were 
just  left  to  make  the  best  of  a  world  that  they  love  too  well. 
But  they  will  not  risk  too  much  in  seeking  the  Kingdom  of  God 
and  His  righteousness.  One  eye  is  always  on  the  world,  if  the 
other  is  on  God.  They  have  their  comforts,  their  luxuries,  their 
^  A,  Strindberg,  Zones  of  the  Spirit,  111. 


PSALM  XXXII.  8  87 

pleasures,  their  possessions,  which  fill  as  large  a  space  as  the 
higher  things  in  the  horizon  round  which  they  sweep  their  sight. 
They  are  not  ungodly,  they  are  not  indifferent  to  the  benediction 
of  Heaven.  But  there  is  a  great  dead  weight  to  be  lifted,  a  great 
back-longing  to  be  overcome.  They  have  to  be  driven  in  the  way 
which  they  say  they  love,  and  to  the  end  which  they  profess  to 
desire  more  than  worlds.  How  many  Christians  have  to  be 
driven  in  the  way  of  life,  at  a  cost  of  pain  to  them,  and  patience 
to  Him,  which  God  alone  knows ! 

^  It  looks  to  me  now  like  a  kind  of  humble  russet-coated  epic, 
that  seven  years'  settlement  at  Craigenputtock ;  very  poor  in  this 
world's  goods,  but  not  without  an  intrinsic  dignity  greater  and 
more  important  than  then  appeared.  It  is  certain  that  for  living 
in  and  thinking  in,  I  have  never  since  found  in  the  world  a  place 
so  favourable.  And  we  were  driven  and  pushed  into  it,  as  if  by 
Necessity,  and  its  beneficent  though  ugly  little  shocks  and  pushes, 
shock  after  shock  gradually  compelling  us  thither !  "  For  a 
Divinity  doth  shape  our  ends,  rough-hew  them  how  we  will": 
often  in  my  life  have  I  been  brought  to  think  of  this,  as  prob- 
ably every  considering  person  is ;  and,  looking  before  and  after, 
have  felt,  though  reluctant  enough  to  believe  in  the  importance 
or  significance  of  so  infinitesimally  small  an  atom  as  oneself,  that 
the  Doctrine  of  a  Special  Providence  is  in  some  sort  natural  to 
man.  All  piety  points  that  way,  all  logic  points  the  other ; — one 
has,  in  one's  darkness  and  limitation,  a  trembling  faith,  and  can 
at  least  say  with  the  Voices,  "  Wir  heissen  euch  hoffen" — if  it  he 
the  will  of  the  Highest.^ 

^  Do  you  at  all  recollect  that  interesting  passage  of  Carlyle 
in  which  he  compares,  in  this  country  and  at  this  day,  the  under- 
stood and  commercial  value  of  man  and  horse ;  and  in  which  he 
wonders  that  the  horse,  with  its  inferior  brains  and  its  awkward 
hoofiness,  instead  of  handiness,  should  be  always  worth  so  many 
tens  or  scores  of  pounds  in  the  market,  while  the  man,  so  far  from 
always  commanding  his  price  in  the  market,  would  often  be 
thought  to  confer  a  service  on  the  community  by  simply  killing 
himself  out  of  their  way  ?  Well,  Carlyle  does  not  answer  his  own 
question,  because  he  supposes  we  shall  at  once  see  the  answer. 
The  value  of  the  horse  consists  simply  in  the  fact  of  your  being 
able  to  put  a  bridle  on  him.  The  value  of  the  man  consists  pre- 
cisely in  the  same  thing.  If  you  can  bridle  him,  or,  which  is 
better,  if  he  can  bridle  himself,  he  will  be  a  valuable  creature 

^  Carlyle,  Reminiscences ,  ii.  244. 


88 


THE  GUIDING  EYE 


directly.  Otherwise,  in  a  commercial  point  of  view,  his  value  is 
either  nothing,  or  accidental  only.  Only,  of  course,  the  proper 
bridle  of  man  is  not  a  leathern  one ;  what  kind  of  texture  it  is 
rightly  made  of,  we  find  from  that  command,  "  Be  ye  not  as  the 
horse  or  as  the  mule  which  have  no  understanding,  whose  mouths 
must  be  held  in  with  bit  and  bridle."  You  are  not  to  be  without 
the  reins,  indeed ;  but  they  are  to  be  of  another  kind :  "  I  will 
guide  thee  with  mine  eye."  So  the  bridle  of  man  is  to  be  the 
Eye  of  God ;  and  if  he  rejects  that  guidance,  then  the  next  best 
for  him  is  the  horse's  and  the  mule's,  which  have  no  understand- 
ing ;  and  if  he  rejects  that,  and  takes  the  bit  fairly  in  his  teeth, 
then  there  is  nothing  left  for  him  than  the  blood  that  comes  out 
of  the  city,  up  to  the  horse-bridles.^ 

3.  There  are  those  who  desire  and  who  willingly  accept  God's 
guidance.  To  such  God  says,  "  I  will  instruct  thee  and  teach 
thee  in  the  way  which  thou  shalt  go :  I  will  counsel  thee  with 
mine  eye  upon  thee."  He  will  take  a  personal  interest  in  them. 
For  the  guide  of  men  is  no  Epicurean  God,  loftily  serene  and 
impassive,  but  one  whose  interest  in  the  world,  whose  care  for 
the  world,  brought  Him  to  live  in  it  that  He  might  share  its 
burden  and  pain.  The  gospel  is  the  revelation  of  how  much  He 
cares ;  of  how  much  the  happiness  of  His  creation,  the  order  of 
His  government,  and  the  satisfaction  of  His  heart  depend  on  the 
way  man  takes.  He  has  created  a  being  of  wonderful  and  complex 
powers,  capable,  if  guided  aright,  of  doing  godlike  work  in  the 
universe,  or  capable  of  making  it  an  Aceldama,  a  Gehenna  of 
wailing  and  death.  And  the  great  work  of  Heaven  is  to  guide 
him ;  to  make  him  know,  trust,  and  love  his  guide.  Truly  "  thou 
shalt  guide  me  with  thy  counsel,  and  afterward  receive  me 
to  glory."  When  Christ  has  won  this  trust  from  a  human  spirit, 
His  redemptive  work  is  done. 

^  To  obey  the  will  of  the  Lord  is  the  secret  first  of  all,  of 
safety — security.  "All  things  work  together  for  good  to  them 
that  love  God."  From  the  moment  a  planet  wheels  into  its  path 
round  the  sun,  there  is  nothing  that  can  harm  that  planet,  but 
just  as  soon  as  a  star  wanders  from  its  orbit,  and  goes  plunging 
headlong  into  the  depths  of  space,  it  is  liable  to  come  into  clash 
and  crash  with  the  universe  of  God.  I  have  seen  a  great  piece 
of  machinery  that  would  fill  an  immense  building.  Now,  suppose 
1  Euskin,  A  Joy  for  Ever,  §18  {Works,  xvi.  28). 


PSALM  XXXII.  8 


89 


that  in  that  great  piece  of  machinery,  one  little  wheel,  as  small,  it 
may  be,  as  a  shilling,  should  drop  out  of  its  place  and  fall  into  the 
midst  of  the  machinery,  that  colossal  mechanism  moving  round 
and  round  and  round  would  grind  this  little  wheel  among  its 
larger  wheels  into  fragments,  if  not  into  powder.  The  Universe 
is  one  great  Machine,  and  God  is  the  Motive  Power  of  it,  and 
when  a  soul  drops  out  of  its  place  in  this  great  machinery,  and 
falls  among  the  great  wheels  of  God's  purpose,  it  is  ground  into 
powder,  unless  the  grace  of  God  puts  that  wheel  back  into  its 
place  in  the  vast  system.  The  moment  that  you  find  out  what  the 
will  of  God  is,  and  drop  into  your  place,  all  the  universe  moves 
with  you,  and  all  the  universe  moves  for  you,  the  whole  Godhead 
is  back  of  you,  the  wisdom  of  God,  and  the  power  of  God,  and  the 
love  of  God,  and  the  grace  of  God ;  and  you  are  as  absolutely  sure 
and  safe  as  God  is.  And  so  Peter  says :  "  Who  is  he  that  shall 
harm  you  if  you  be  followers  of  that  which  is  good  ? "  ^ 

II. 

God's  Method  of  Guiding  us. 

1.  God  guides  His  people  by  imparting  to  them  understanding. 
There  is  a  threefold  assurance  in  the  text:  I  will  make  thee 
wise ;  I  will  point  out  to  thee  the  way ;  I  will  fix  Mine  eye  upon 
thee.  God  will  do  something  in  the  man.  He  shall  yet  be 
instructed  more  deeply  than  ever,  and  shall  find  himself  never 
too  old  to  learn.  God  will  do  something  round  about  the  man. 
He  shall  have  the  guidance  of  circumstances,  of  closed  and  opened 
doors,  which  only  the  wise  can  understand.  Finally,  this  man 
being  a  backslider  of  proven  weakness,  God  will  watch  him  with 
fixed  attention  to  correct  the  least  slip.  Providential  care  is 
shown  to  be  a  very  complex  thing,  operating  along  many  lines 
which  converge  to  the  great  result.  But  more  particularly  for 
our  purpose,  it  is  largely  an  inward  thing,  dealing  first  and  fore- 
most with  the  mind  rather  than  with  the  circumstances,  accord- 
ing to  this  initial  promise,  "I  will  make  thee  wise."  Probably 
circumstances  are  much  more  nearly  right  than  people  admit,  and 
where  failure  arises  the  man  himself  is  generally  at  fault.  Also, 
men  can  never  be  saved  from  the  outside  or  by  the  most  favour- 
able circumstances.    Deliverance  must  be  wrought  supremely  by 

1  A.  T.  Pierson. 


90  THE  GUIDING  EYE 

an  inward  grace  illuminating  the  mind  and  making  men  circum- 
spect and  self-adaptive  to  win  the  mastery  over  life's  conditions. 
It  is  written  that  God  did  not  stay  the  flood,  but  Noah,  being 
warned  by  Him,  prepared  an  ark  for  the  saving  of  his  house.  The 
grand  resource  and  secret  of  the  Most  High  in  the  protecting  of 
His  children  is  this  gift  of  wisdom. 

The  name  "  Wisdom "  pervades  the  Old  Testament,  bringing 
the  glimmer  of  jewels  and  visions  of  a  good  woman's  face  as 
tokens  of  its  power  to  adorn  and  enrich  life.  In  the  text  a 
smaller  word  is  used,  indicating  circumspection  or  intelligence; 
yet  that  is  but  wisdom  applied  practically.  The  assertion  is  that 
we  may  be  made  wise  to  think  God's  thoughts  after  Him,  in- 
telligent to  recognize  the  meaning  of  His  way  with  us,  and  when 
understanding  fails — as  fail  sometimes  it  will — patient  to  endure 
with  a  great  trust.  Mere  acquiescence  cannot  be  the  end  of  our 
faith.  He  has  called  us  friends — not  puppets.  Trials  and  griefs 
have  no  inevitable  efiicacy.  In  every  different  destiny  of  joy 
and  sorrow,  health  and  sickness,  help  and  injury,  there  lie  hidden 
both  a  use  and  a  misuse,  both  a  blessing  and  a  curse,  and  only 
active  wisdom  can  choose  the  better  part. 

If  Many  still  think  of  God  in  the  way  Omar  Khayyam  thought 
of  Him — as  an  infinite  Chess-player,  with  the  world  for  His 
board.  There  stand  bishops  and  knights  and  pawns,  each  on  its 
own  square  and  perhaps  untouched  for  long  intervals.  But  every 
piece  is  moved  from  time  to  time  by  the  inexorable  Hand,  and 
sooner  or  later  every  piece  is  sacrificed  for  ends  that  it  cannot 
know.  Our  duty  is  simply  to  trust  that  God  is  winning  the 
game  in  His  own  way.  Thus  do  the  uuinstructed  ones  most  pitifully 
talk,  taking  the  name  of  the  Lord  their  God  in  vain — finding  faith 
a  poor  futility.  They  cast  their  burden  upon  the  Lord  in  quite 
the  wrong  sense,  for  they  lay  only  the  blame  of  it  on  Him.  They 
think  themselves  not  so  much  led  through  the  world  as  dragged 
through  it,  like  a  child's  toy  across  the  parlour  floor,  meeting  with 
a  bump  here  and  a  bump  there ;  and  having  caught  a  gleam  of 
religious  truth  from  the  nursery  or  the  pulpit,  they  feel  it  right 
to  say  without  conviction,  "  I  suppose  the  bumps  are  all  for  my 
good."  They  are  puppets  in  the  hand  of  the  Inscrutable  One : 
they  are  not  made  wise.^ 

^  A  lady  put  the  universal  difficulty  to  me  in  a  simple  but 
complete  statement.    "  My  troubles,"  she  said,  "  come  from  the 

^  W.  S.  Hackett,  The  Land  of  Ymir  Sojoumings,  79. 


PSALM  XXXII.  8 


91 


unkindness  of  other  people,  and  they  are  very  hard  to  bear 
because  I  know  they  are  not  God's  will.  Unkindness  cannot  be 
His  will."  Her  complaint  well-nigh  covers  all  the  dreary  cata- 
logue of  human  suffering.  .  Nearly  always  it  is  "  somebody's  fault." 
The  cotton  corner  which  spreads  want  over  an  English  county,  the 
opened  lamp  in  the  coal-mine  which  darkens  a  hundred  homes, 
the  careless  workmanship  at  the  drain  which  slays  the  darling  of 
the  household,  the  heartbreak  of  a  fruitless  search  for  employ- 
ment— these  surely  are  not  the  will  of  your  Heavenly  Father. 
Now  it  is  quite  true  that  Atlantic  storms  may  be  beyond  control. 
But  nothing  hinders  men  from  building  ships  strong  enough  to 
weather  them.  There  may  be  limits  which  we  know  not  to  the 
miraculous  betterment  of  circumstances  outside,  but  there  is  no 
limit  to  God's  power  to  build  up  His  saints  inwardly  in  strength. 
He  may  be  barred  out  of  a  thousand  hearts,  but  He  need  not  be 
barred  out  of  mine.  And  this  gospel  is  ennobling  because  it  is 
educative.  It  may  be  doubted  if  "  God  tempers  the  wind  to  the 
shorn  lamb,"  but  it  is  not  at  all  doubtful  that  He  expects  men  to 
invent  warmer  clothing.  The  blessings  of  Providence  are  not  for 
idlers,  but  for  those  who  are  willing  to  learn  wisdom.^ 

2.  God  guides  His  own  not  by  force,  but  by  love.  The  eye  is 
the  indicator  of  the  desire ;  the  lips  command  ;  the  hand  compels. 
The  lips  can  plead,  but  there  is  an  inner  plea  which  the  eye  alone 
urges.  Those  who  know  the  language  of  the  eye  have  mastered 
the  language  of  the  soul.  It  implies  that  a  sympathy  is  already 
established.  When  the  glance  is  understood  and  obeyed,  there  is 
perfect  concert  of  mind  and  heart.  A  heart  tuned  to  sympathy 
with  the  Divine  purposes  and  hopes,  leaps  forth  in  glad  obedience. 
It  sees  no  meanings  anywhere  so  joyfully  as  those  which  it  reads 
in  the  eye  of  God. 

If  What  is  it  that  makes  thy  life  an  intenser  note  than  the 
music  of  the  stars  ?  Is  it  not  just  the  fact  that  thou  art  free, 
just  the  circumstance  that  there  is  no  iron  belt  around  thee  ? 
What  is  this  marvellous  thing  thou  callest  thy  will  ?  Wherein 
does  its  glory  differ  from  the  glory  which  the  heavens  declare  ? 
Is  it  not  just  in  this,  that  thou  art  not  compelled  to  come  in  ? 
There  is  a  guidance  for  thee,  but  it  is  not  a  star's  guidance ;  it  is 
a  guidance  of  the  eye.  It  is  the  only  guiding  which  a  will  can 
get  without  dying.  Wouldst  thou  be  driven  like  a  star?  then 
must  thou  cease  to  be  free.    The  heavens  declare  God's  glory; 

1  W.  S.  Hackett. 


92 


THE  GUIDING  EYE 


but  it  is  the  glory  of  His  hands.  Who  shall  declare  the  glory  of 
His  Spirit?  Not  a  star  however  bright,  not  a  pulseless  thing 
however  fair ;  only  something  that  can  throb  and  strive  and 
choose.  He  will  not  guide  thee  by  aught  but  His  eye.  He  will 
not  compel  thee  to  bear  His  cross.  He  will  not  sacrifice  the  joy  of 
being  loved  to  the  pride  of  being  obeyed.  He  will  draw  thee, 
but  He  will  never  drive  thee ;  He  shall  guide  thee  only  with  His 
eye.i 

Is  God  your  leader  ? — or  does  He  only  rein  you  in  ?  Are 

you  personally  conscious  of  the  vast  difference  between  these  two 
experiences  ?  It  is  well  to  be  held  back  from  sin,  no  doubt,  but  the 
joy  of  the  God-directed,  sanctified  man  is  certainly  beyond  that 
of  the  horse  and  mule  which  have  no  understanding,  and  whose 
mouth  must  be  held  in  with  bit  and  bridle.  There  is  no  holiness 
of  a  radical  sort  without  Divine,  positive,  everyday  guidance. 
This  differs  not  only  in  degree  but  in  kind  from  negative  restraint. 
The  latter  may  be  no  more  than  the  rebuke  or  cry  of  our  own 
alarmed  conscience.  Conscience  is  born  with  us,  born  with  every 
man.  We  possess  it  without  choice  of  our  own.  It  is  liable 
to  error  like  other  human  faculties,  even  though  of  inestimable 
value.  But  God  intends  us  to  know  Him  of  our  own  free  choice, 
and  much  more  intimately  than  by  laws  written  involuntarily 
upon  our  heart.  Those  latter  we  have  in  common  with  the 
heathen.  They  operate  upon  our  fears.  Guidance  appeals  to  our 
faith.  "  I  will  guide  thee  with  mine  eye,"  is  a  promise  to  God's 
people  which  goes  far  ahead  of  conscience,  and  so  universally  is  it 
intended  to  be  enjoyed  that  it  was  given  even  long  before  the 
coming  of  our  Lord.  But  there  is  no  guidance  of  this  highest 
kind  without  the  eager  and  abiding  desire  for  it — a  desire  strong 
enough  in  its  faith  and  intensity  to  survive  during  the  severest 
trial  and  suffering 

3.  God  guides  us,  not  by  showing  us  at  the  outset  the  whole 
road  that  lies  before  us,  and  instructing  us  beforehand  which  turn 
to  take,  and  what  to  do  in  each  difficult  place ;  but,  step  by  step, 
as  we  go  along.  He  reveals  the  path  to  us,  and  shows  us  how  to 
walk.  We  should  be  appalled  were  we  to  see  at  a  glance  all  that 
He  sees.  He  does  not  guide  us  so.  He  Himself  sees  all ;  but  He 
shows  it  to  us,  bit  by  bit,  as  we  can  bear  the  sight,  and  as  it  is 
needful  for  us  to  know.    When  we  accept  God's  guidance,  we 

1  G.  Matheson,  Words  by  the  Wayside,  17. 

2  J.  Rendel  Harris,  Life  of  F.  W.  Crossley,  165. 


PSALM  XXXII.  8 


93 


experience  more  and  more  the  warm,  cherishing,  quickening 
sunhght,  the  light  of  God's  countenance,  shining  on,  gladdening, 
and  glorifying  the  life.  We  escape,  too,  all  that  is  bitter  in  the 
school  of  discipline,  all  harm,  all  loss,  all  death.  Nothing  malign, 
nothing  sorrowful,  can  lurk  for  a  spirit  in  the  path  in  which  it  is 
guided  by  the  eye  of  God ;  while  the  life-path  brightens  as  it 
travels,  opening  into  a  sphere  of  boundless  activity,  of  glorious 
beauty,  of  perfect  blessedness,  as  it  nears  the  bounds  of  the  eternal 
world. 

^  My  parents  founded  every  action,  every  attitude,  upon  their 
interpretation  of  the  Scriptures,  and  upon  the  guidance  of  the 
Divine  Will  as  revealed  to  them  by  direct  answer  to  prayer. 
Their  ejaculation  in  the  face  of  any  dilemma  was,  "  Let  us  cast  it 
before  the  Lord  ! "  So  confident  were  they  of  the  reality  of  their 
intercourse  with  God,  that  they  asked  for  no  other  guide.  They 
recognized  no  spiritual  authority  among  men,  they  subjected 
themselves  to  no  priest  or  minister,  they  troubled  their  consciences 
about  no  current  manifestation  of  "  religious  opinion."  They  lived 
in  an  intellectual  cell,  bounded  at  its  sides  by  the  walls  of  their 
own  house,  but  open  above  to  the  very  heart  of  the  uttermost 
heavens.^ 

4.  God's  guidance  meets  all  possible  circumstances  and  con- 
ditions. The  eye  has  infinite  capability  of  expression,  and  speaks 
all  languages.  It  thus  meets  and  fits  any  character,  in  all  its 
feelings,  and  in  all  its  circumstances,  every  moment.  And  yet  it 
is  actually  personal.  Other  guidings,"  such  as  laws,  or  books,  or 
commands,  are  general,  and  the  same  to  everybody.  The  look  of 
"  the  eye  "  is  essentially  individual ;  it  brings  the  Guider  and  the 
guided  into  the  closest  association :  "  I  will  guide  thee  with  mine 
eye." 

^  Of  all  bodily  organs  the  most  expressive  is  the  eye.  I  can 
read  in  the  eye  of  a  friend  far  more  than  he  utters  with  the  tongue. 
It  is  the  most  accurate  of  all  the  heart's  dial-plates.  It  can 
express  joy  or  grief,  entreaty  or  reproof,  approval  or  dislike. 
Parents  and  children,  or  brothers  and  sisters,  living  in  the  same 
home,  can  hold  conversations  with  each  other,  even  in  the  presence 
of  strangers,  by  the  language  of  the  eye.  Small  signs  pass  be- 
tween them  thus  which  a  stranger  neither  sees  nor  understands. 
And  just  so,  those  who  live  in  close  intercourse  with  God  learn  to 

^  Edmund  Gosse,  Father  and  Son,  14. 


94 


THE  GUIDING  EYE 


read  what  may  be  called  the  glances  of  His  eye,  small  indications 
of  His  will  which  strangers  to  heart-fellowship  with  Him  cannot 
read  at  all.^ 

5.  God's  guidance  is  unerring ;  it  never  fails.  We  read  in  the 
Old  Testament  that  God  guided  His  people  in  various  ways — by 
angels,  by  dreams,  by  visions,  by  prophets,  by  priests,  by  Urim 
and  Thummim,  by  signs  and  wonders.  Although  God  no  longer 
guides  man  by  these  special  or  extraordinary  agencies,  yet  we  may 
be  as  certain  of  God's  guidance  now  as  though  we  saw  Him  in  the 
heavens  with  His  eye  upon  us  and  His  finger  pointing  to  the 
course  He  desires  us  to  take.  By  an  instinct,  by  an  impression, 
by  a  sense  of  duty,  by  an  exercise  of  judgment,  by  the  advice  of 
others,  by  a  book,  by  a  sermon,  by  a  passage  of  Scripture,  by 
helping  us  in  one  direction,  by  hindering  us  in  another — these  are 
the  ordinary  methods  or  agencies  by  which  God  is  ever  guiding 
those  who  obey  His  guidance.  We  are  as  a  vessel  being  steered 
to  port.  There  is  One  with  us  whose  eye  is  always  on  the 
compass,  and  whose  hand,  so  to  speak,  is  always  on  the  wheel  of 
life.  By  His  eye  and  by  His  hand  every  movement  of  a  man's 
life  is  guided.  That  hand  and  that  eye  are  hidden,  are  unnoticed  ; 
but  night  and  day  they  are  in  action,  ever  performing  their 
guiding  work  till  we  reach  the  haven  of  God's  everlasting  rest. 
We  may  make  false  moves  at  times,  at  times  appear  to  get  out  of 
our  providential  track ;  but  somehow,  so  long  as  the  Divine  eye 
is  upon  us  and  the  Divine  hand  directs  us,  we  go  not  far  astray, 
and  in  the  end  reach  our  God-appointed  port. 

^  Keble  recalled  to  men  the  teaching  of  Bishop  Butler  on  the 
moral  nature  of  the  evidence  by  which  spiritual  convictions  were 
reached.  To  the  mere  reason,  this  evidence  could  not  get  beyond 
suggestive  probabilities ;  but  these  probabilities  were  used,  by  the 
living  spirit  of  man,  as  an  indication  of  the  personal  Will  of  God, 
which  could  be  read  by  the  soul  that  was  in  tune  with  that  Will. 
So  probabilities  became  certitudes.  "  I  will  guide  thee  with  mine 
Eye,"  was  Keble's  favourite  example  of  the  mode  in  which  Divine 
truth  touched  the  soul.  By  deep  glimpses,  by  rare  flashes,  by  a 
momentary  glance,  the  Eye  of  God  could  make  us  aware  of  Truths 
far  beyond  the  understanding  of  reason.  Such  Truths  possessed 
authority,  which  we  could  not  dissect  or  critically  examine. 

^  G.  H.  Knight,  Abiding  Help  for  Changing  Days,  30. 


PSALM  XXXII.  8 


95 


They  were  revelations  of  the  mind  of  Him  with  whom  we  had 
to  deal} 

^  There  is  a  tender  awe  in  knowing  that  there  is  some  One  at 
your  side  guiding  at  every  step,  restraining  here,  leading  on  there. 
He  knows  the  way  better  than  the  oldest  Swiss  guide  knows  the 
mountain  trail.  He  has  love's  concern  that  all  shall  go  well  with 
you.  There  is  a  great  peace  for  us  in  that,  and  with  it  a  tender 
awe  to  think  who  He  is,  and  that  He  is  close  up  by  your  side. 
When  you  come  to  the  splitting  of  the  road  into  two,  with  a  third 
path  forking  off  from  the  others,  there  is  peace  in  just  holding 
steady  and  very  quiet  while  you  put  out  your  hand  and  say, 
"  Jesus,  Master,  guide  here."  And  then  to  hear  a  Voice  so  soft 
that  only  in  great  quiet  is  it  heard,  softer  than  faintest  breath  on 
your  cheek,  or  slightest  touch  on  your  arm,  telling  the  way  in 
fewest  words  or  syllables — that  makes  the  peace  unspeakable.^ 

Not  like  the  angel  with  drawn  sword. 

Neither  with  rod  threat'ningly ; 
Leadst  Thou,  Lord,  but  fulfill'st  Thy  word, 

"I  will  guide  thee  with  Mine  eye." 

We  see  Thee  not,  but  Thou  seest  us, 
Be  where  we  may,  Thou  art  nigh; 

Whisp'ring,  timid  or  valorous, 

"  I  will  guide  thee  with  Mine  eye." 

Dark  days  come  and  our  path  is  dark, 

We  know  not  to  go  or  fly; 
From  the  sky  falls,  like  trill  of  lark, 

"I  will  guide  thee  with  Mine  eye." 

Ah,  Lord,  we're  wayward  and  we're  weak, 
Our  gladness  changing  to  sad  sigh: 
.    O  keep  Thou  us  as  Thou  dost  speak. 
And  guide  us  ever  with  Thine  eye.* 

1  H.  S.  Holland,  Personal  Studies,  78. 

*  S.  D.  Gordon,  Quiet  Talks  on  Personal  Problems,  154, 

*  A.  B.  Grosart,  Songs  of  the  Day  and  Nighty  33. 


The  Goodness  of  God. 


PS.  xxv.-cxix. — 7 


Literature. 


Arnold  (T.),  Sermons,  v.  163. 

Ballard  (F.),  Does  it  Matter  what  a  Man  Believes?  234. 

Bosanquet  (C),  The  Man  after  God's  own  Heart,  82. 

Holland  (H.  S.),  Vital  Values,  36. 

Simeon  (C),  Works,  v.  240. 

Smith  (Mrs.  Pearsall),  TJie  God  of  all  Comfort,  90. 

Symonds  (A.  R.),  Fifty  Sermons,  280. 

Vaughan  (J.),  Sermons  to  Children,  i.  57. 

Voysey  (C),  Sermons,  xv.  (1892),  No.  31. 

Christian  World  Pulpit,  Ixii.  145  (R.  F.  Horton). 

ExpositoTf  2nd  Ser.,  iv.  410  (S.  Cox). 


The  Goodness  of  God. 


O  taste  and  see  that  the  Lord  is  good : 

Blessed  is  the  man  that  trusteth  in  him. — Ps.  xxxiv.  8. 

1.  No  man  who  looks  thoughtfully  around  him  and  within  can 
fail  to  feel  at  times,  as  Plato  felt,  that  he  needs  some  wiser  and 
more  certain  guidance  than  his  own  if  he  is  ever  to  learn  what 
God  really  is;  that  God  Himself  must  speak  to  him  and  show 
Himself  to  him  if  he  is  to  be  sure  that  God  is  good,  friendly, 
accessible.  Even  if  we  believe  that  God  has  spoken  to  us  and 
shown  Himself  to  us,  that  we  have  seen  Him  in  Christ  Jesus  and 
found  Him  altogether  good,  yet  at  times,  when  the  burden  of 
all  this  unintelligible  and  self-contradictory  world  lies  heavily 
upon  us,  or  when  our  own  life  is  darkened  by  some  misery  to 
which  there  seems  neither  relief  nor  end,  we  lose  our  assur- 
ance; we  falter  where  we  firmly  trod:  God  seems  to  shroud 
Himself  in  some  inaccessible  heaven,  to  retire  behind  thick  clouds 
we  cannot  penetrate,  to  become  doubtful  to  us  once  more,  so  that 
we  can  no  longer  see  or  say  that  He  is  good. 

It  is  an  unspeakable  relief  and  comfort  to  hear  any  voice  which 
assures  us,  in  clear  and  cordial  tones,  that  God  is  good,  despite  our 
doubts  and  fears,  that  the  sun  of  His  love  is  shining  down  on  the 
world,  though  it  be  hidden  from  us  by  the  dark  clouds  that  hang 
about  our  hearts.  And  if  the  voice  be  that  of  a  man  such  as 
we  are,  yet  better  and  wiser  than  we  are,  and  wiser  and  better 
mainly  because  he  has  passed  through  many  such  experiences  as 
those  by  which  we  are  troubled  and  has  found  out  what  they 
mean — then  surely  he  can  give  us  not  comfort  only,  but  the 
very  succour  that  we  most  need. 

2.  Now  the  author  of  this  psalm  stands  in  the  front  rank  of 
those  poets  who  have  devoted  themselves  to  the  study  of  the 
ethical  aspects  and  problems  of  human  life,  and  he  is  able  to 

99 


loo  THE  GOODNESS  OF  GOD 

interpret  the  inner  world  of  character  and  motive  and  passion 
with  a  precision  and  a  delicacy,  a  truth  and  a  power  never 
surpassed.  Confessedly  also,  despite  the  grievous  transgression 
he  so  bitterly  rued,  he  was  a  man  after  God's  own  heart; 
a  man  whose  goodness  was  not  of  the  narrow,  ascetic,  forbidding 
type  which  repels  men,  but  of  that  large,  cordial,  and  manly  type 
which  is  most  winning  and  attractive.  Nor  can  we  well  doubt 
that  his  experience  was  wider  and  more  varied  than  ours, 
embraced  more  radical  vicissitudes,  swept  a  larger  circle,  covered 
more  distant  extremes.  And  not  only  did  he  run  through  the 
whole  gamut  of  human  experience,  but  at  the  very  time  he  sung 
this  psalm  he  was  involved  in  those  clouds  of  undeserved  loss, 
pain,  reproach,  under  which  we  too  often  lose  our  faith  in  the 
goodness  of  God.  It  would  have  been  pardonable  if,  under  stress 
of  so  hard  and  unmerited  a  fate,  he  had  brooded  over  it  till  the 
goodness  of  God  had  become  as  doubtful  to  him  as  it  often  be- 
comes to  us  under  the  lesser  strain  of  trials  not  to  be  compared 
with  his.  But  it  is  from  the  thick  darkness  of  his  adversity 
that  he  comes  forth,  with  manly  and  cheerful  courage,  to  assure 
us  that  the  Lord  is  good,  and  to  dwell  enjoyingly  on  the  blessed- 
ness of  the  man  who  trusts  in  Him.  Such  a  testimony,  given  by 
such  a  man  at  such  a  moment,  may  well  touch  and  reassure  our 
hearts.  What  are  our  powers  of  insight  as  compared  with  his  ? 
or  what  our  troubles  as  compared  with  his  ?  That,  with  his 
powers,  he  saw  no  reason  to  doubt  the  goodness  of  the  Lord ;  that, 
under  his  burden,  he  held  fast  his  confidence  in  God — this  should 
at  least  bring  some  little  hope  to  our  hearts  when  they  are  heavy 
and  doubtful  and  sad.  And  if  we  believe  that  he  was  not  only 
a  poet,  but  an  inspired  poet,  we  have  in  his  words  a  Divine 
revelation  as  well  as  the  result  of  his  own  illuminated  reason  and 
far-reaching  experience.  It  is  God  who  speaks  to  us  and  assures 
us  that  He  is  good,  and  will  do  us  good,  however  we  doubt  or 
distrust  Him. 

^  The  following  letter  was  written  by  Canon  Liddon  to  Dr. 
King,  Bishop  of  Lincoln,  one  of  his  oldest  friends,  in  the  second 
week  of  his  illness,  which  was  destined  to  proved  fatal :  "  God  has 
laid  His  hand  very  heavily  upon  me ;  and  I  have  been  through 
the  fire — I  greatly  needed  it.  Nothing  [is]  more  wonderful  in 
Him  than  His  goodness  to  such  as  I  am.    Pray  for  me,  that  I  may 


PSALM  XXXIV.  8 


lOI 


learn  how  to  be  humble  and  patient,  and  that  this  visitation  (in 
the  Day  of  Account)  may  not  be  seen  to  have  been  as  nothing — 
or  worse  than  nothing — instead  of  a  great  means  of  grace."  ^ 

Lifelong  our  stumbles,  lifelong  our  regret, 
Lifelong  our  efforts  failing  and  renewed, 
While  lifelong  is  our  witness,  "  God  is  good," 

Who  bore  with  us  till  now,  bears  with  us  yet. 

Who  still  remembers  and  will  not  forget, 

Who  gives  us  light  and  warmth  and  daily  food; 
And  gracious  promises  half  understood, 

And  glories  half  unveiled,  whereon  to  set 

Our  heart  of  hearts  and  eyes  of  our  desire ; 
Uplifting  us  to  longing  and  to  love, 

Luring  us  upward  from  this  world  of  mire, 
Urging  us  to  press  on  and  mount  above 
Ourselves  and  all  we  have  had  experience  of, 

Mounting  to  Him  in  love's  perpetual  fire.^ 

L 

The  Approach  to  God. 

1.  The  Psalmist  invites  us  to  put  God  to  the  most  practical  of 
tests.  "  O  taste  and  see."  Of  our  five  senses  taste  is  the  most 
homely ;  of  our  five  senses  taste  is  the  most  personal ;  for  what 
we  see,  and  hear,  and  smell,  and  touch,  we  share  with  others,  but 
in  a  peculiarly  personal  sense  the  taste  is  our  own.  As  the 
proverb  says :  "  There  is  no  disputing  about  taste."  Moreover, 
the  sense  of  taste  is  a  peculiarly  gracious  gift  of  the  Creator  to 
us,  for,  so  far  as  we  can  tell,  we  might  easily  be  nourished  with 
food  which  we  did  not  taste,  and  all  those  processes  of  digestion 
might  go  on  unconsciously,  like  the  feeding  of  an  engine.  But 
He  has  given  us  this  faculty  of  taste,  by  which  we  discriminate 
the  different  flavours  of  the  food  we  eat,  and  get  a  relish  from 
variety.  Now,  it  is  this  one  of  the  senses — the  most  homely,  the 
most  personal,  and  the  most  gratuitous — that  is  taken  as  the 
image  to  be  used  for  urging  upon  us  the  experience  of  God. 
"  Taste "  is  the  command.  It  is  as  if  God  came  to  us  with  this 
generous  proposal,  "  I  would  not  have  you  choose  Me  until  you 
have  tasted  Me,  nor  would  I  force  Myself  upon  you  unless  your 

^  Life  and  Letters  of  H.  P.  Liddm,  384.  ^  Christina  G.  Rossetti. 


THE  GOODNESS  OF  GOD 


taste  decide."  In  a  marvellous  way  He  puts  Himself  at  our  dis- 
posal for  us  to  try.    "  Taste  and  see  that  the  Lord  is  good." 

^  There  is  an  Indian  story  of  a  queen  who  "  proved  the  truth 
by  tasting  the  food."  The  story  tells  how  her  husband,  who  dearly 
loved  her,  and  whom  she  dearly  loved,  lost  his  kingdom,  wandered 
away  with  his  queen  into  the  forest,  left  her  there  as  she  slept, 
hoping  she  would  fare  better  without  him,  and  followed  her  long 
afterwards  to  her  father's  court,  deformed,  disguised,  a  servant 
among  servants,  a  cook.  Then  her  maidens  came  to  her,  told  her 
of  the  wonderful  cooking,  magical  in  manner,  marvellous  in  flavour 
and  fragrance.  They  are  sure  it  is  the  long-lost  king  come  back 
to  her,  and  they  bid  her  believe  and  rejoice.  But  the  queen  fears 
it  may  not  be  true.  She  must  prove  it ;  she  must  taste  the  food. 
They  bring  her  some.  She  tastes  and  knows.  And  the  story  ends 
in  joy.    "  0  taste  and  see  that  the  Lord  is  good."  ^ 

2.  The  secret  of  goodness  can  be  found  only  by  personal  ex- 
perience. Men  know  what  sin  is,  by  experience.  They  do  not 
know  what  holiness  is,  and  they  cannot  obtain  the  knowledge  of 
its  secret  pleasure,  till  they  join  themselves  truly  and  heartily  to 
Christ,  and  devote  themselves  to  His  service — till  they  "  taste," 
and  thereby  try.  One  may  ask,  Of  what  value,  of  what  distinct 
force  and  bearing,  as  an  evidence  of  truth,  is  this  appeal  to  ex- 
perimental proof  ?  To  this  we  may  answer,  first,  that  while  the 
mere  fact  of  any  religious  or  ethical  system  making  such  an 
appeal  would  by  no  means  prove  its  truth,  for  a  false  system  might 
profess  to  do  the  same,  still  no  system  could  be  true  which  shrank 
from  it.  It  would  argue  a  consciousness  of  being  untrue  to  the 
realities  of  things,  otherwise  it  would  not  fear  the  ordeal  of  ex- 
perience. So  far,  therefore,  it  is  a  fair  presumption  in  favour  of 
the  Bible  that  throughout  its  language,  expressed  or  implied,  is 
"  Taste  and  see."  And  this  presumption,  it  is  next  to  be  observed, 
rises  into  positive  inductive  proof,  in  proportion  to  the  duration, 
extent,  and  diversity  of  the  trial.  As  in  experimental  philosophy 
we  arrive  at  a  general  law  by  an  induction  of  particular  instances, 
and  the  result  is  satisfactory  in  proportion  to  the  multiplication 
of  concurring  instances  and  the  absence  of  antagonistic  ones, 
so  is  it  with  the  argument  for  the  Bible  as  derived  from 
experimental  proof.    In  this  case  the  induction  is  overwhelming. 

^  Amy  Wilson  Carmichael,  Things  as  they  are  in  India,  253. 


J 


PSALM  XXXIV.  8 


103 


From  the  beginning  it  has  been  undergoing  this  ordeal.  Millions 
have  tried  it,  and  have  set  to  their  seal  that  God's  Word  is  true. 
From  age  to  age  the  testimony  has  rolled  on,  swelling  in  its  pro- 
gress into  one  mighty  and  majestic  volume.  And  thus,  borne  on 
the  echoes  of  successive  generations,  the  voice  of  that  testimony 
has  reached  our  ears,  and  the  burden  of  its  cry  is  still  the  same, 
"  0  taste  and  see  that  the  Lord  is  good :  blessed  is  the  man  that 
trusteth  in  him." 

^  It  is  in  his  inner  experience  of  the  glorified  Christ  that  we 
are  to  look  for  the  secret  and  source  of  Eaymund  Lull's  doctrine 
and  life — what  he  thought,  what  he  was,  what  he  suffered.  And 
this  must  be  true  of  all  true  missionaries.  They  do  not  go  out 
to  Asia  and  to  Africa  to  say,  "  This  is  the  doctrine  of  the  Christian 
Church  " ;  or,  "  Your  science  is  bad.  Look  through  this  microscope 
and  see  for  yourselves  and  abandon  such  error " ;  or,  "  Compare 
your  condition  with  that  of  America  and  see  how  much  more 
socially  beneficial  Christianity  is  than  Hinduism  or  Confucianism 
or  Islam."  Doubtless  all  this  has  its  place — the  argument  from 
the  historic  evidences  of  Christianity,  the  argument  from  the 
coherence  of  Christianity  with  the  facts  of  the  universe,  the 
argument  from  fruits.  But  it  is  also  all  secondary.  The  primary 
thing  is  personal  testimony:  "This  I  have  felt.  This  He  has 
done  for  me.    I  preach  whom  I  know."^ 

Experience  bows  a  sweet  contented  face. 
Still  setting  to  her  seal  that  God  is  true: 
Beneath  the  sun,  she  knows,  is  nothing  new 

All  things  that  go  return  with  measured  pace, 

Winds,  rivers,  man's  still  recommencing  race: — 
While  Hope  beyond  earth's  circle  strains  her  view, 
Past  sun  and  moon,  and  rain  and  rainbow  too. 

Enamoured  of  unseen  eternal  grace. 

Experience  saith,  "  My  God  doth  all  things  well " : 
And  for  the  morrow  taketh  little  care. 

Such  peace  and  patience  garrison  her  soul: — 
While  Hope,  who  never  yet  hath  eyed  the  goal, 
With  arms  flung  forth,  and  backward  floating  hair, 

Touches,  embraces,  hugs  the  invisible.^ 

3.  This  is  a  mode  of  proof  available  to  every  man,  without 
distinction  or  exception.    It  requires  neither  learning  nor  logic  to 

^  R.  E.  Speer,  Some  Great  Leaders  in  the  World  Movement,  46. 
*  Christina  G.  Rossetti,  Verses,  105. 


I04  THE  GOODNESS  OF  GOD 


conduct  it.  The  appeal  is  simply  this,  "  Taste  and  see ;  trust  in 
the  Lord  and  thou  shalt  be  blessed."  Whatever  doubts  there 
might  have  been  before  the  time  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  there 
can  be  little  doubt  now  that  this  experience  of  the  great  souls  is 
meant  to  be  the  experience  of  every  soul.  For  ever  since  our 
Lord  and  Master  came  to  us  in  that  homely  speech  of  His,  and 
proposed  that  we  should  taste  Him,  eat  His  flesh,  and  drink  His 
blood,  and  ever  since  He  reminded  us  that  it  is  in  that  kind  of 
intimate  personal  communion  that  life  comes,  and  not  otherwise, 
He  has  made  it  clear  that  there  is  with  Him  no  selection.  He 
does  not  choose  the  people  at  His  banquet ;  He  does  not  say,  "  Let 
the  rich  or  let  the  worthy  come."  The  whole  point  of  it  is,  "  Go 
out  into  the  highways  and  hedges,  and  compel  them  to  come 
in  " ;  "  whosoever  will,  let  him  drink  " ;  "  come,  buy  wine  and  milk 
without  money  and  without  price." 

^  Madame  Guyon  possessed  the  feminine  rather  than  the 
masculine  relation  between  the  soul  and  God;  but  that  is  the 
beauty  of  this  relation — that  it  does  not  depend  upon  sex  or  age ; 
it  is  equally  significant  to  the  woman  as  to  the  man.  There 
is  something  essentially  delicate  and  sweet  in  this  woman-soul 
opening  to  God.  Follow  the  process.  She  comes  in  stillness  and 
quietness  and  solitude  to  wait  upon  Him.  She  utters  His  name, 
and  pauses ;  she  says  a  word  to  Him,  and  waits  to  listen ;  she  will 
not  speak  much,  lest  she  should  not  hear.  Presently  she  hears ; 
it  is  the  response,  He  is  coming.  "  Oh,  my  soul,  be  still ;  hush 
thy  words ;  He  is  here ! "  He  speaks,  and  now  she  speaks  again, 
and  presently  from  speech  to  silence  she  comes  into  the  sanctuary 
of  His  presence,  and  there  it  is  all  still — activity  which  does  not 
move.  Oh,  the  joy,  the  rapture  of  what  seems  passionless  passion ! 
He  is  speaking,  she  is  hearing;  the  soul  is  throbbing  on  the 
heart  of  God.  What  a  marvellous  experience  it  is,  this  tasting 
God!i 

^  Has  the  love  of  Christ  worked  any  real  change  in  our 
feelings  towards  God  ?  Has  there  broken  out  yet  in  our  hearts 
the  beautiful  bright  spring  of  thankfulness,  or  the  deep  fount  of 
holy  sorrow  ?  Have  we  ever  felt  the  promptings  of  remorse,  the 
pangs  of  penitence,  as  we  thought  of  the  goodness  of  God  in  giving 
us  Jesus  Christ  ?  .  .  .  Has  the  goodness  of  the  Lord  ever  got  a 
hold  of  our  hand  and  turned  us  right  round,  and  begun  to  lead  us 
gently  along  the  road  that  ends  in  a  new  mind  about  God,  a  mind 

» R.  F.  Horton. 


PSALM  XXXIV.  8 


at  peace  with  Him  ?  That  is  what  God's  goodness  leads  to.  If 
you  have  not  seen  the  sunshine  streaming  down  that  lane,  the  sun 
has  never  shone  for  you.  If  you  have  never  heard  that  in  the 
patter  of  the  rain,  it  has  yet  to  fall  a  new  way  for  you.  If  the 
sweetest  voice  you  ever  heard  on  earth  never  sounds  in  that  strain, 
there  is  a  music  in  it  yet  for  you.  If  your  father's  wisdom,  your 
teacher's  help,  your  friend's  love  have  not  pointed  out  this  track, 
there  is  a  meaning  in  them  hitherto  missed  by  you.  Oh,  never 
say  you  have  known  the  goodness  of  God  as  it  can  be  known,  as 
He  would  have  it  known,  if  it  does  not  sometimes  make  you  bow 
your  head  in  your  prayer  and  stop  speechless,  and  nearly  break 
your  heart.  Speak  not  of  God's  goodness  if  it  has  not  cast  you  at 
the  feet  of  Christ ;  if  it  has  not  made  you  feel  after  and  find  the 
hem  of  His  garment,  and  hold  on  for  dear  life.^ 

4.  The  test  must  be  applied  under  certain  conditions,  if  the 
result  is  to  prove  satisfactory.  Look  at  verses  13  and  14  of  this 
psalm.  Does  a  man  want  that  taste  of  God  ?  Then  "  Keep  thy 
tongue  from  evil,  and  thy  lips  from  speaking  guile.  Depart  from 
evil,  and  do  good ;  seek  peace,  and  pursue  it."  The  tongue  that 
is  to  taste  God  must  be  true,  the  lips  into  which  that  food  is  to 
pass  must  be  pure,  and  the  life  must  be  a  life  that  is  compatible 
with  so  high  a  companionship  and  so  intimate  a  communion. 
"Oh,  then,"  you  say,  "it  is  impossible  to  me;  for  my  lips  are 
unclean,  and  my  tongue  is  untrue ;  what  you  say  is  possible  for 
the  good  is  not  possible  for  me,  the  bad."  But  read  on  to  verse 
18 — "  The  Lord  is  nigh  unto  them  that  are  of  a  broken  heart,  and 
saveth  such  as  be  of  a  contrite  spirit."  So  it  appears  that  there 
are  two  conditions  for  this  tasting  of  God.  The  one  is  that  you 
shall  be  perfectly  pure  in  heart  and  speech,  and  then  you  can 
taste  Him ;  but  if  you  are  not  pure,  if  you  are  defiled  with  sin, 
then  you  shall  be  contrite  and  broken-hearted,  and  your  God  will 
come  that  you  may  taste  Him.  It  is  not  His  intention  that  any 
should  go  unfed  at  the  banquet  which  He  has  laid  for  the  children 
of  men. 

^  A  very  popular  picture  of  Watts  which  usually  holds  the 
spectator  spellbound  is  taken  from  the  Arthurian  Epic.  Eiding 
through  the  forest,  with  its  tangled  vegetation  graphically  painted. 
Sir  Galahad  has  suddenly  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  mystic  Sangreal, 
which  was  concealed  from  all  ordinary  vision. 

1  R.  W.  Barbour,  Thoughts,  30. 


io6  THE  GOODNESS  OF  GOD 


The  times 

Grew  to  such  evil  that  the  holy  cup 

Was  caught  away  to  Heaven,  and  disappear'd. 

The  knights  of  King  Arthur  had  gone  in  search  of  this  hidden 
treasure.  At  the  same  time  and  in  the  same  place,  one  could  see 
it  and  another  could  not.  The  knights  had  the  vision  of  the  Grail 
in  proportion  to  their  purity.  To  some  of  them  who  saw  it,  it 
appeared  veiled  with  a  luminous  cloud.  But  Sir  Galahad,  the 
knight  of  pure  heart  and  unselfish  living,  who  lost  himself  to  save 
himself,  beheld  the  glorious  thing  itself,  clear  and  distinct.  It  is 
at  this  supreme  moment  when  the  heavenly  vision  appears  to  him 
that  he  is  painted  by  the  artist.  He  dismounts  from  his  white 
horse,  and  stands  bareheaded  with  fascinated  eyes  gazing  upon  the 
glorious  vision  revealed  to  him  in  the  luminous  sky  through  a 
break  in  the  trees,  and  lighting  up  his  face  and  armour.  .  .  .  The 
inner  meaning  of  the  subject  will  come  to  us  as  the  view  of  the 
Grail  came  to  Sir  Galahad,  when  our  eye  is  single  and  our  heart 
is  pure,  suddenly  and  unexpectedly ;  and  we  shall  find  that  the 
idea  which  underlies  the  whole  picture,  and  makes  it  lovely  with 
a  loveliness  far  surpassing  that  of  hue  and  form  so  vividly  de- 
lineated, is  an  intensely  modern  one,  and  as  applicable  to  our 
day  as  to  the  far-off  times  of  King  Arthur,^ 


II. 

The  Discovery  of  the  Goodness  of  God. 

1.  The  soul  that  tastes  makes  a  great  discovery  ;  it  finds  that 
God  is  good.  It  is  a  stupendous  act  of  courage  by  which  the  soul 
of  man  pushes  through  the  tangled  jungle  of  natural  powers 
that  stop  his  progress  and  embarrass  him;  and  thrusts  himself 
through;  and  emerges  into  the  open  spaces  under  a  clear  sky; 
and  finds  himself  face  to  face  with  God.  Those  powers  have  had 
him  as  their  own.  He  has  been  their  creature,  their  captive 
prey.  He  has  been  carried  to  and  fro  by  feeling,  instincts, 
desires,  appetites,  interests,  ambitions.  So  he  has  grown.  So 
it  has  always  been.  Passions,  fears,  hates,  joys,  loves — these 
welled  up  from  unknown  sources ;  these  made  him  their  puppet. 
Whither  they  impelled  he  went.  They  were  strong  in  their  grip. 
They  were  terribly,  horribly  real, 

1  Hugh  Macmillan,  The  Life-  Work  of  Q.  F,  Watts,  175. 


PSALM  XXXIV.  8 


107 


Yet  through  all  this  wild  riot  the  spirit  thrust  its  way,  like  a 
tender  blade  through  the  grass  and  stony  soil.  Up  it  came.  It 
showed  itself  a  new  and  strange  force  amid  the  mob  of  tyrannous 
impulses  that  tugged  and  strained  to  beat  it  down.  Still  it 
persevered ;  still  it  insisted ;  still  it  drew  itself  upward,  beyond 
all  that  clung  and  encumbered,  seeking  still  the  intangible,  the 
unseen.  It  threw  all  competing  experiences  aside,  it  pressed  on 
towards  a  secret  goal  of  its  own ;  it  strove,  it  wrestled,  it  sought 
in  all  strange  places,  and  on  lonely  mountain-peaks,  and  in 
hidden  silences.  It  sought  something  that  haunted  and  fled, 
and  escaped  and  returned;  and  was  very  near,  yet  very  far; 
something  that  for  ever  evoked  and  yet  for  ever  evaded.  It 
sought  it  through  blundering  incantations  and  bloody  rites,  and 
down  by  foul  ways  and  by  weird  devices.  It  sought  and  failed, 
and  cried  aloud  in  its  failure  and  cut  its  flesh  with  knives ;  it 
tore  itself,  it  foamed,  it  went  mad.  It  lost  itself  in  obscure  magic. 
Yet  still  it  sought  that  which  its  heart  desired. 

At  last  out  of  a  wilderness  of  effort,  strewn  with  the  wreckage 
of  a  thousand  false  hopes,  it  arrived ;  it  found ;  it  felt ;  it 
touched ;  it  knew.  Lo !  this,  this  is  God.  This  is  what  explains 
all.  This  is  it.  This  is  the  experience  that  it  craved ;  this  is  the 
consummation ;  this  is  religion.  "  0  taste  and  see  "  (so  man  cried) 
"  how  gracious  the  Lord  is  ! "  Spirit  and  spirit  meet.  Soul  and 
God  are  one.  How  deep  the  peace !  How  keen  the  joy ! 
Blessed !  blessed  is  the  man  that  putteth  his  trust  in 
Him.i 

1[  In  the  Divinity  Hall  at  Aberdeen  John  Duncan  was 
impressed  with  Dr.  Mearns's  prayers  to  the  "  Great  King,"  and 
his  cogent  reasonings  convinced  him  intellectually  of  the  existence 
of  the  living  God.  The  gain  was  to  him  invaluable.  "  It  was 
Dr.  Mearns,"  he  frequently  said  to  me,  "  who  satisfied  me  of  the 
existence  of  God  " ;  and  through  life  he  remembered  the  debt  with 
lively  gratitude.  But  the  conviction  had  been  reached  by  a 
logical  process,  without  any  more  direct  mental  perception  ;  rather 
his  reason  accepting,  than  his  mind  seeing  it.  The  next  stage 
of  light  seems  almost  to  belong  to  the  operation  of  the  Spirit 
of  God,  and  to  involve  on  his  part  a  special  resistance  in  not 
following  it  up  to  spiritual  fruit.  It  was  the  breaking  in  of  a 
light  which  he  looked  back  upon  to  the  last  as  an  era  in  his  life, 

1  H.  Scott  Holland,  Vital  Values,  40. 


io8  THE  GOODNESS  OF  GOD 


and  spoke  of  as  a  season  of  indescribable  joy.  His  own  words  to 
me  were  nearly  if  not  exactly  these  :  "  I  first  saw  clearly  the 
existence  of  God  in  walking  along  the  bridge  at  Aberdeen;  it 
was  a  great  discovery  to  me ;  I  stopped  and  stood  in  an  ecstasy 
of  joy  at  seeing  the  existence  of  God."  I  think  he  also  added, 
"I  stood  and  thanked  God  for  His  existence."  To  another 
friend  he  said,  When  I  was  convinced  that  there  was  a  God,  I 
danced  on  the  Brig  o'  Dee  with  delight."  ^ 

Expecting  Him  my  door  was  open  wide: 

Then  I  looked  round 

If  any  lack  of  service  might  be  found, 
And  saw  Him  at  my  side : — 

How  entered,  by  what  secret  stair, 

1  know  not,  knowing  only  He  was  there.^ 

^  I  shall  never  forget  the  hour  when  I  first  discovered  that 
God  was  really  good.  I  had  of  course  always  known  that  the  Bible 
said  He  was  good;  but  I  had  thought  it  only  meant  He  was 
religiously  good ;  and  it  had  never  dawned  on  me  that  it  meant 
He  was  actually  and  practically  good,  with  the  same  kind  of 
goodness  as  He  has  commanded  us  to  have.  The  expression, 
"the  goodness  of  God,"  had  seemed  to  me  nothing  more  than 
a  sort  of  heavenly  statement,  which  I  could  not  be  expected  to 
understand.  And  then  one  day  I  came,  in  my  reading  of  the 
Bible,  across  the  words,  "  0  taste  and  see  that  the  Lord  is  good," 
and  suddenly  they  meant  something.  "The  Lord  is  good,"  I 
repeated  to  myself.  What  does  it  mean  to  be  good  ?  What 
but  this,  the  living  up  to  the  best  and  highest  that  one  knows. 
To  be  good  is  exactly  the  opposite  of  being  bad.  To  be  bad  is  to 
know  the  right  and  not  to  do  it,  but  to  be  good  is  to  do  the  best 
we  know.  And  I  saw  that,  since  God  is  omniscient,  He  must 
know  what  is  the  best  and  highest  good  of  all,  and  that  therefore 
His  goodness  must  necessarily  be  beyond  question.  I  can  never 
express  what  this  meant  to  me.  I  had  such  a  view  of  the  real 
actual  goodness  of  God  that  I  saw  nothing  could  possibly  go 
wrong  under  His  care,  and  it  seemed  to  me  that  no  one  could  ever 
be  anxious  again.  And  over  and  over  since,  whep  appearances 
have  been  against  Him,  and  when  I  have  been  tempted  to  question 
whether  He  had  not  been  unkind,  or  neglectful,  or  indifferent, 
I  have  been  brought  up  short  by  the  words,  "  The  Lord  is 
good";  and  I  have  seen  that  it  was  simply  unthinkable  that 

^  A.  Moody  Stuart,  Recollections  of  John  Duncan^  17. 

2  T.  E.  Brown,  Old  John  and  Other  Poems,  181. 


PSALM  XXXIV.  8 


109 


a  God  who  was  good  could  have  done  the  bad  things  I  had 
imagined.^ 

^  The  Lord's  goodness  surrounds  us  at  every  moment.  I  walk 
through  it  almost  with  difificulty,  as  through  thick  grass  and 
flowers.2 

^  He  took  his  pain  and  all  the  trials  of  his  days,  and  said, 
"  They  say  there  is  a  better  land,  but  it  is  hard  to  believe."  Thus 
he  was  a  true  pilgrim,  for  it  is  only  stupid  people  who  think 
that  the  vision  of  the  loveliest  city  in  the  loveliest  land  dims  the 
pilgrim's  eyes  to  the  fair  beauties  of  this  world.  He  did  not  make 
the  most  of  two  worlds ;  but  as  he  lived  to  be  worthy  of  that  city 
with  foundations,  God  counted  him  worthy  to  find  along  the  dusty 
road  of  traffic  and  toil  and  pain  the  well  of  deep  joys  which  only 
the  true  pilgrim  can  discover.  These  wells  were  at  many  stages 
of  the  day's  road :  he  found  one  deep  spring  of  pure,  sparkling 
water  in  the  morning  reading  of  the  Bible  and  hymn-book ;  an- 
other when  his  hands  were  clasped  in  prayer.^ 

2.  The  true  standard  of  goodness  we  find  in  Jesus  Christ. 
Ordinary  human  nature  measures  its  purity  and  nobility  by  itself, 
by  the  customs  of  society,  by  the  decrees  of  law  courts,  by  the 
maxims  of  current  philosophy.  The  blessed  life  takes  its  estimate 
from  the  doctrine  and  spirit  of  Jesus.  This  means  a  higher  "^nned 
goodness  which  we  call  holiness,  and  applies  only  to  those  w.  ^, 
besides  being  virtuous  in  their  actions,  are  possessed  with  an  un- 
afi'ected  enthusiasm  of  goodness,  and  besides  abstaining  from  vice, 
regard  even  a  vicious  thought  with  horror.  Here  is  an  ideal 
which  ordinary  ethics  not  only  do  not  reach,  but  do  not  even 
attempt.  When  Jesus  says,  "  If  ye  know  these  things,  blessed  are 
ye  if  ye  do  them,"  the  test  is  as  spiritual  as  it  is  practical.  "  These 
things "  include  what  He  referred  to  as  a  pure  heart ;  an  inner 
life,  that  is,  which  is  utterly  true  to  both  the  great  commands,  as 
He  interpreted  and  emphasized  them.  How  much  more  this 
means  than  the  honesty  which  keeps  men  out  of  prison,  and  the 
kindness  which  makes  daily  life  tolerable,  no  words  are  needed 
to  show.  The  blessed  life  receives  Christ  Jesus  as  Lord ;  that  is 
the  open  secret  of  its  ethical  and  spiritual  superiority  to  every 
other  life. 

(1)  The  hope  of  the  world  lies  in  its  vision  of  goodness,  in  its 

1  Mrs.  Pearsall  Smith.  2     y^^  Barbour,  Thoughts,  107. 

^  Love  and  Life :  The  Story  of  J.  Denholm  Brash,  198. 


no  THE  GOODNESS  OF  GOD 

realization  of  character.  The  only  radical  and  final  remedy  for 
human  misery  is  in  the  remoulding  of  human  character.  It  is  a 
potent  truth,  alike  for  good  and  ill,  that  character  is  influenced  by 
environment.  But  it  is  even  more  true  and  potent  that  environ- 
ment is  influenced  by  character.  The  elevation  of  individual 
character  is  an  old  highway  to  social  happiness,  but  it  is  confessedly 
difficult,  and  many  eager  philanthropists  have  sought  for  shorter 
cuts.  Sooner  or  later,  however,  the  return  has  to  be  made  to  the 
only  road.  What  it  all  comes  to  is  that  the  blessed  life  is  ulti- 
mately the  only  hope  of  humanity.  Christendom  may  sadly  fail  to 
teach  or  to  exemplify  this  hope.  But  that  is  not  the  failure  of 
Christianity.  For  the  needs  of  the  whole  world,  Christianity  has 
never  yet  been  tried.  The  modern  Christian,  like  the  ancient 
Israelite,  is  continually  forsaking  the  true  God  to  worship  idols. 
Hence  the  Church's  impotence  to  bless  the  world.  But  if  only  the 
profession  of  Christianity  did  mean  on  all  hands  the  embodiment 
of  the  blessed  life,  full  churches  would  be  but  a  small  fraction  of 
the  result.  Much  more  may  be  affirmed  with  no  less  truth — even 
this,-  that  the  curses  of  civilization  (which  may  well  alarm  un- 
belief) would  come  to  an  end  as  surely  as  noxious  bacteria  in 
sunlight ;  society  would  be  leavened  with  even  more  certainty  than 
yeast  leavens  dough ;  human  sorrows  would  be  brought  to  their 
natural  and  tolerable  minimum;  and  the  nations  would  be  in 
such  assurance  of  permanent  peace  that  the  millions  expended 
on  murderous  battleships  could  be  utilized  for  the  abolition  of 
poverty  and  the  enrichment  of  humanity. 

^  There  is  one  signal  service  which  the  appeal  of  the  Christian 
character  is  peculiarly  apt  to  render  in  the  cause  of  faith.  It  is 
often  the  only  power  which  can  confront  the  steady,  surreptitious, 
miserable  pressure  with  which  the  sins  of  Christians  fight  against 
the  work  of  Christ.  It  may  be  that  the  contest  between  these 
two  forces  covers  by  far  the  greater  part  of  the  whole  battlefield ; 
and  that,  while  critics  and  apologists,  with  their  latest  weapons 
(or  with  the  latest  improvement  of  their  old  ones),  are  charging 
and  clashing  amid  clouds  of  dust — with  the  world  still  thinking 
that  here  at  last  is  the  real  crisis — the  practical  question  between 
belief  and  disbelief  is  actually  being  settled  for  the  vast  majority 
of  men  by  the  silent  and  protracted  conflict  between  the  con- 
sistent and  the  inconsistent  lives  of  those  who  alike  profess  them- 
selves Christians ;  the  conflict  between  the  contrasted  experience 


PSALM  XXXIV.  8 


III 


of  Christ's  Presence  manifest  in  goodness,  and  Christ's  Name  dis- 
honoured in  hypocrisy,  or  blindness,  or  indifference.^ 

(2)  Goodness  is  attainable  through  faith  in  Christ.  For  men 
and  for  nations  alike,  life  is  largely  if  not  wholly  made  up  of 
habits.  The  blessed  life,  whether  on  the  large  or  the  small  scale, 
is  certainly  a  question  of  blessed  habit.  But  this  is  not  the  whole 
case.  Destiny,  we  know,  turns  on  character,  just  as  character  is 
decided  by  habits.  But  habits  are  neither  more  nor  less  than  the 
repetition  of  acts.  Let  the  first  act  be  worthy,  then  let  repetition 
confirm  it,  and  habit  becomes  not  only  easy  but  the  sure  prophecy 
of  destiny.  The  true  beginning  of  the  blessed  life  is  plain,  viz.,  to 
receive  Christ  Jesus  as  Lord.  The  repetition  of  that  supreme  act 
of  the  soul,  as  each  day  dawns  and  throughout  all  the  duties  it 
brings,  is  the  pledge  of  the  habit  which  makes  character.  That 
character  not  only  ensures  destiny  but  contributes  in  the  interim 
to  other  characters  and  destinies  on  every  hand.  Social  reform 
yields  no  hope  of  any  golden  age  without  purified  and  ennobled 
individual  character.  For  that,  there  is  no  such  ideal  or 
guarantee  on  earth  as  the  blessed  life  which  is  "  rooted  and  built 
up  "  in  Jesus  Christ. 

^  In  June,  G.  F.  Watts  wrote  asking  Shields  to  lunch  any  day 
at  Little  Holland  House.  He  knew  nothing  of  the  work  Shields 
was  commencing,  but  said :  "  I  should  like  to  have  an  occasional 
chat  about  serious  art.  I  wish  you  would  kindly  send  me  a  line 
and  tell  me  the  correct  colours  for  the  draperies  of  Faith.  I 
know  you  are  an  authority."  To  which  Shields  replied :  "  For 
answer  to  your  question  and  compliment,  I  am  no  'authority.'  I 
know  none  on  the  subject  but  the  Authority  of  the  Word  revealed. 
Paul  declared  Faith  is  God's  gift.  She  is  heaven-born.  She  is 
the  assurance  of  heavenly  things  to  mortals  shut  in  by  sensuous 
things,  therefore  the  skies'  hue  is  hers,  her  mantle  and  her  wings : 
and  for  her  robe,  white — unspotted.  And  this  because  they  who 
seek  righteousness  by  works  fail  of  that  which  only  Faith  gives. 
The  'fine  linen  of  the  Saints'  symbolizes  their  righteousness  in 
the  Apocalypse,  and  it  is  said  that  their  robes  were  made  *  white 
in  the  blood  of  the  Lamb.'  If  I  seek  where  alone  I  look  to  find, 
this  is  what  is  given  me,  and  it  is  the  best  I  can  offer  in  response 
to  your  question.  I  bow  to  tradition  only  where  it  agrees  with 
the  written  Word."  ^ 

*  Francis  Paget,  Bishop  of  Oxford,  178. 

*  E.  Mills,  Life  and  Letters  of  Frederic  Shields,  309. 


112 


THE  GOODNESS  OF  GOD 


3.  Having  once  tasted,  we  must  continue  tasting.  Those  who 
have  once  tasted  of  God,  have  contracted  a  passion  that  grows  in 
being  fed.  Because  they  have  tasted  they  must  come  again  and 
again  to  stay  an  appetite  which,  though  always  being  met,  is 
always  on  the  increase.  The  tasting  of  this  meat  is  not  to  be  the 
tasting  of  an  occasional  delicacy,  it  is  to  be  the  eating  of  daily 
bread. 

^  There  was  a  man  who  once  lived  in  a  place  where,  close  to 
his  house,  he  had  a  spring  of  water.  At  a  little  distance  from 
him,  there  was  another  spring.  We  shall  call  the  spring  close  to 
his  house,  "  the  nether  spring,"  and  the  other,  a  little  way  off, 
"  the  upper  spring."  So  he  had  the  nether  and  the  upper  spring. 
The  nether  spring  looked  very  pleasant  when  the  sun  was 
shining ;  the  water  sparkled  in  its  rays ;  yet,  when  looked  at  more 
closely,  the  water  was  black  and  dark,  and  very  often  grew 
muddy,  and  the  flowers  on  the  side  of  it  never  lasted  long ;  and 
people  who  drank  a  great  deal  of  the  water  from  the  nether 
spring  seemed  to  grow  sick.  The  other  spring,  a  little  way  off, 
came  out  of  the  rock  ;  it  required  a  great  deal  of  patience  to  get 
it ;  ■  but  if  the  cup  was  held  long  enough,  it  would  always  get 
filled,  and  you  were  never  sick  from  it. 

Now  this  man  who  lived  in  the  cottage  near  the  nether 
spring  always  went  to  it ;  he  did  not  like  the  trouble  of  going  to 
the  upper  spring.  He  had  not  sufiicient  patience.  So  it  went 
on  for  many  years.  At  last  he  came  to  the  nether  spring  and 
it  was  dry,  not  a  drop  of  water  in  it.  So  he  was  obliged  to  go 
to  the  upper  spring;  he  had  to  wait  some  time,  but  at  last 
he  had  a  cup  of  nice,  pure  water.  It  was  so  sweet,  and  he 
enjoyed  it  much.  He  had  never  before  tasted  such  water.  The 
nether  spring  flowed  on  again,  but  ever  after  he  went  to  the 
upper ;  and  when  asked  why  he  went  so  far,  he  said,  "  I  cannot 
leave  the  upper  spring ;  having  once  tasted  it,  I  cannot  go  back 
to  the  nether  spring."  ^ 

III. 

Satisfaction  in  the  Goodness  of  God. 

1.  Those  who  discover  the  goodness  of  God  are  content  to 
trust  Him.  To  be  religious  is  to  trust  God,  and  to  do  that  is  to 
be  free  from  the  fear  of  evil.    He  who  trusts  shall  not  be  afraid 

*  James  Yaughan. 


PSALM  XXXIV.  8 


113 


of  evil  tidings,  his  heart  is  fixed,  trusting  in  the  Lord.  To  be 
reUgious  is  to  keep  God's  commandments,  and  the  path  of 
rectitude  cannot  but  be  the  path  of  happiness.  Of  course  we 
must  not  disguise  the  fact  that  to  be  truly  religious  is  to  deny 
one's  self  and  to  take  up  the  cross.  But  even  that  carries  with  it 
its  own  blessedness.  Suffering  and  sacrifice  for  the  good  of 
another  bring  to  one's  soul  a  peculiar  sweetness  and  satisfaction. 
How  much  more  must  this  be  the  case  when  it  is  done  for  God  ! 
"  Take  my  yoke  upon  you,"  said  Christ,  not  concealing  that  His 
religion  is  a  yoke,  "  and  ye  shall  find  rest  unto  your  souls." 

^  Miss  Trotter  was  penurious  in  small  things,  but  her 
generosity  could  rise  to  circumstances.  Her  dower  was  an 
annuity  from  the  estate  of  Mortonhall.  She  had  a  contempt  for 
securities,  and  would  trust  no  bank  with  her  money,  but  kept  all 
her  bills  and  banknotes  in  a  green  silk  bag  that  hung  on  her 
toilet-glass.  On  each  side  of  the  table  stood  a  large  white  bowl, 
one  of  which  contained  her  silver,  the  other  her  copper  money. 
One  day,  in  the  course  of  conversation,  she  said  to  her  niece,  "  Do 

ye  ken,  Margaret,  that  Mrs.  Thomas  E  is  dead  ?    I  was  gaun 

by  the  door  this  morning,  and  thought  I  would  just  look  in  and 
speer  for  her.  She  was  very  near  her  end,  but  quite  sensible,  and 
expressed  her  gratitude  to  God  for  what  He  had  done  for  her  and 
her  fatherless  bairns.  She  said  she  was  leaving  a  large,  young 
family  with  very  small  means,  but  she  had  that  trust  in  Him  that 
they  would  not  be  forsaken,  and  that  He  would  provide  for  them. 
Now,  Margaret,  ye'U  tell  Peggy  to  bring  down  the  green  silk  bag 
that  hangs  on  the  corner  of  my  looking-glass,  and  ye'll  tak'  twa 
thousand  pounds  out  0'  it,  and  gi'e  it  to  Walter  Ferrier  for  behoof 
of  thae  orphan  bairns ;  it  will  fit  out  the  laddies,  and  be  something 
to  the  lassies.  I  want  to  make  good  the  words,  that  '  God  wad 
provide  for  them,'  for  what  else  was  I  sent  that  way  this  morning, 
but  as  a  humble  instrument  in  His  hands  ? "  ^ 

2.  He  who  has  tasted  the  goodness  of  God  and  has  learned 
the  secret  of  happiness  will  seek  to  share  his  experience  with 
others.  Fire  will  cease  to  have  either  heat  or  light  as  it  burns, 
before  the  blessed  life  will  be  hidden  away  in  heart-secrecies, 
buried  like  the  one  talent  in  useless  seclusion.  Every  man  or 
woman  who  rises  above  carnality  and  custom  and  selfishness  into 
the  pure  brightness  and  calm  strength  of  communion  with  Christ 

^  J.  A.  Doyle,  Susan  Ferrier,  18. 
PS.  xxv.-cxix. — 8 


114 


THE  GOODNESS  OF  GOD 


must  go  on  to  exemplify  His  word,  "  Ye  are  the  salt  of  the  earth ; 
ye  are  the  light  of  the  world."  Egoism  is  as  intolerable  without 
altruism  as  altruism  is  impossible  without  egoism.  In  the  blessed 
life  there  is  no  conflict  between  these  two.  Bather  do  they 
supplement  and  stimulate  each  other.  The  human  self,  by  very 
reason  of  its  enrichment  beyond  utterance  through  receiving 
Christ  Jesus  as  Lord,  will  never  cease  to  feel,  and  act  upon  the 
feeling — 

0  that  the  world  might  taste  and  see 

The  riches  of  His  grace ! 
The  arms  of  love  that  compass  me 

Would  all  mankind  embrace. 

^  When  persons  only  wish  for  the  happiness  of  another,  and 
when  they  never  pass  a  day  without  doing  a  kindness,  how  can 
they  be  otherwise  than  happy  ?  And  when  difficulties  are  very 
great  they  have  only  to  ascend  to  the  level  of  doing  the  will  of 
God;  they  will  be  happy  still.  If  they  are  determined  to  act 
rightly,  to  live  as  the  best  men  and  women  have  lived,  there  is 
no.  more  difficulty  of  unbelief.  They  see,  not  having  seen,  they  go 
out  trusting  in  God,  but  not  knowing  whither  they  go.  There  is 
no  delight  in  life  equal  to  that  of  setting  the  world  right,  of 
reconciling  things  and  persons  to  one  another,  by  understanding 
them,  not  by  embittering  them.  True  sympathy  with  every  one 
is  the  path  of  perfect  peace.^ 

^  A  poor  man  came  home  one  day  and  brought  five  peaches : 
nice  beautiful  peaches.  He  had  four  sons ;  he  gave  one  to  each 
and  one  to  his  wife.  He  did  not  say  anything,  but  just  gave  them. 
At  night  he  came  home  again,  and  then  he  said,  "  How  were  the 
peaches — all  nice  ?  "  I  will  tell  you  what  each  of  the  four  boys 
said. 

The  eldest  boy  said,  "  Oh  yes,  father,  delicious.  I  ate  my  peach, 
and  then  I  took  the  stone  very  carefully,  and  went  and  planted  it 
in  the  garden,  that  we  may  have  another  peach-tree  some  day." 
"  Well,"  said  the  father,  "  very  prudent ;  look  out  for  the  future." 

Then  the  little  boy  said,  "  Oh,  father,  'twas  exceedingly  nice. 
I  ate  all  mine,  and  mother  gave  me  half  hers,  and  I  threw 
away  the  stone."  "  Well,"  said  the  father,  "  I  am  glad  you  liked 
it,  but  perhaps  if  you  had  been  a  little  older,  you  would  have 
acted  differently." 

The  second  boy  said,  Yes,  father,  I  will  tell  you  what  I  did 
with  mine ;  I  picked  up  the  stone  my  little  brother  threw  away, 

^  B.  Jowett,  in  Life  and  Letters,  ii.  402, 


PSALM  XXXIV.  8 


115 


broke  it,  and  ate  the  kernel ;  I  enjoyed  that  exceedingly ;  but  I 
did  not  eat  my  peach,  I  sold  it.  I  could  buy  a  dozen  peaches 
with  what  I  got  for  it."  The  father  said,  "  That  may  be  right,  but 
I  think  it  was  a  little  covetous." 

Then  he  said  to  the  third  boy,  "  Well,  Edward,  what  did  you  do 
with  your  peach  ? "  Edward  came  forward  reluctantly ;  but  in 
answer  to  his  father,  he  replied,  "  I  took  it  to  poor  little  George, 
who  is  sick  down  the  lane.  He  would  not  take  it,  so  I  left  the 
peach  on  his  bed  and  ran  away." 

Which  of  the  four  peaches  was  sweetest  ?  "  Taste  and  see  " 
the  way  to  enjoy  anything.^ 

*  James  Vaughan,  Sermons  to  Children,  i.  67. 


God  of  Nature  and  God  of  Grace. 


X17 


Literature. 


Daries  (J.  A.),  Seven  Words  of  Love,  165. 
Dearden  (H.  W.),  Parochial  Sermons,  68. 
Gray  (W.  A.),  The  Shadow  of  the  Hand,  198. 
Hanks  (W.  P.),  The  Eternal  Witness,  142. 
Maclaren  (A.),  A  Yearns  Ministry,  ii.  211. 

Christian  World  Pulpit,  xxiiv.  188  (W.  G.  Horder)  ;  xl.  169  (L.  Abbott)  ; 

Ixxv.  60  (E.  E.  Newell). 
Church  Times,  July  28,  1911  (J.  W.  Horsley). 
Preacher^s  Magazine,  vii.  439  (K.  Brewin). 
Twentieth  Century  Pastor^  xxviii.  (1911)  201  (J.  E.  Flower). 


God  of  Nature  and  God  of  Grace. 


Thy  lovingkindness,  O  Lord,  is  in  the  heavens ; 
Thy  faithfulness  reacheth  unto  the  skies. 
Thy  righteousness  is  like  the  mountains  of  God  ; 
Thy  judgements  are  a  great  deep. — Ps.  xxxvi.  5,  6. 

The  landscape  from  which  the  Psalmist  has  borrowed  his  lessons 
in  all  probability  lay  beside  him  while  he  mused.  We  imagine 
him  at  the  time  a  fugitive  from  Saul.  He  is  hid  in  some  desert- 
retreat,  with  the  everlasting  hills  round  about  him,  and  the  gleams 
and  the  shadows  of  a  summer  noon  overhead.  He  had  been  cast 
out  from  the  comforts  of  an  earthly  home,  but  God  was  his 
dwelling-place  and  his  refuge.  Hunt  him  as  men  might,  they 
could  not  drive  him  where  Jehovah's  righteousness  did  not  environ 
him,  and  the  wings  of  His  lovingkindness  stretch  to  shadow  and 
protect.  Out  there,  amidst  the  silence  and  restfulness  of  nature, 
God's  breath  was  about  him  to  cool  and  to  strengthen,  and  His 
voice  spoke  comfort  and  peace.  So  the  Psalmist  speaks  little  of 
himself.  He  mentions  his  trials  and  perils  only  for  the  sake  of 
dismissing  them.  From  the  wickedness  and  the  craft  of  men  he 
is  fain  to  turn  to  the  goodness  and  the  faithfulness  of  God,  of 
which  all  things  around  were  eloquent. 

^  I  was  struck  with  the  fact  that  Scripture  is  adapted  to  every 
land,  on  Sunday  week,  as  I  sat  in  the  little  English  Church  at 
Zermatt,  right  under  the  shadow  of  the  gigantic  Matterhorn,  and 
read  such  passages  as  these  on  its  walls:  "Ye  frost  and  cold, 
bless  ye  the  Lord,  praise  Him  and  magnify  Him  for  ever."  "  Ye 
mountains  and  hills,  bless  ye  the  Lord,  praise  Him  and  magnify 
Him  for  ever."  And  as  day  after  day  I  moved  about  in  a  land 
where  in  every  direction  the  eye  rested  on  gigantic  peaks, 
whose  crests  were  often  lost  in  the  clouds,  these  words  were  ever 
rising  in  my  mind :  "  Thy  righteousness  is  like  the  mountains  of 
God."  1 

1  W.  Garrett  Horder. 
"9 


I20  GOD  OF  NATURE  AND  OF  GRACE 


I. 

The  Lovingkindness  of  God. 

"Thy  lovingkindness,  O  Lord,  is  in  the  heavens." 

The  "mercy"  or  "lovingkindness"  of  which  the  Psalmist 
speaks  is  very  nearly  equivalent  to  the  New  Testament  "  grace." 
Both  mean  substantially  this — active  love  communicating  itself 
to  creatures  who  are  inferior,  and  who  might  have  expected  some- 
thing else  to  befall  them.  Mercy  is  a  modification  of  love,  in- 
asmuch as  it  is  love  to  an  inferior.  The  hand  is  laid  gently  upon 
the  man,  because  if  it  were  laid  with  all  its  weight  it  would  crush 
him.  It  is  the  stooping  goodness  of  a  king  to  a  beggar.  And 
mercy  is  likewise  love  in  its  exercise  to  persons  that  might  expect 
something  else,  being  guilty.  As  a  general  coming  to  a  body  of 
mutineers  with  pardon  and  favour  upon  his  lips,  instead  of  with 
condemnation  and  death,  so  God  comes  to  us  forgiving  and  bless- 
ing. •  All  His  goodness  is  forbearance,  and  His  love  is  mercy, 
because  of  the  weakness,  the  lowliness,  and  the  ill  desert  of  us  on 
whom  the  love  falls. 

1.  As  the  heavens  are  high  above  the  earth,  so  God's  loving- 
kindness evermore  transcends  man.  Far  above  the  towers  that 
men's  hands  have  reared,  the  waves  that  the  tempests  uplift,  the 
peaks  that  the  earth  has  heaved,  the  heaven  stretches  its  distant 
curtain,  embracing  but  surmounting  them  all.  And  so  with  the 
mercy  of  our  God.  It  is  the  one  all-enfolding,  all-transcending 
fact  in  God's  moral  universe,  lifting  itself  far  above  the  region  of 
human  experience  and  analogy.  It  is  high ;  we  cannot  attain  to 
it.  It  is  far  above  man's  mercies,  for  our  "  goodness  extendeth 
not  to  God's,"  and  while  "  greater  love  hath  no  man  than  this,  that 
a  man  lay  down  his  life  for  his  friends,"  God  "  commendeth  his 
love  toward  us,  in  that,  while  we  were  yet  sinners,  Christ  died  for  us.'' 
It  is  far  above  man's  deserts,  for  we  are  "  not  worthy  of  the  least 
of  all  the  mercies,  and  of  all  the  truth  "  which  He  showeth  to  His 
servants.  It  is  far  above  man's  sins,  for  high  as  he  has  heaved 
the  mountains  of  his  provocations,  God's  mercy  can  transcend 
the  loftiest.    It  is  far  above  man's  prayers  and  conceptions,  for 


PSALM  XXXVI.  5,  6 


121 


as  the  heavens  are  higher  than  the  earth,  so  are  His  ways  higher 
than  our  ways,  and  His  thoughts  than  our  thoughts,  and  He  "  is 
able  to  do  exceeding  abundantly  above  all  we  ask  or  think." 

Great  God !  I  stood  beneath  the  skies  one  night, 
When  all  Thy  stars  were  out,  serene  and  clear, 
And  tried  to  think  of  Thee,  and  feel  Thee  near, 
When,  suddenly,  a  sense  of  all  Thy  might. 
Thy  times  to  come,  Thy  wonders  out  of  sight, 
Struck  chill  on  me — my  spirit  reeled  for  fear ; 
Scarce  certain  of  the  ground  I  stand  on  here, 
I  shrank  abased  beneath  Thy  awful  height ; 
When  soft  as  dew,  a  word  of  Holy  Writ 
Fell  on  my  troubled  mind ;  "  Thy  mercy,  Lord, 
Is  greater  than  the  heavens" — then  all  above, 
Around,  beneath,  took  comfort  from  the  word; 
For  'twas  as  if  the  heavens  were  newly  lit 
With  their  best,  brightest  star — the  Star  of  Love. 

2.  Like  the  face  of  the  summer  sky,  the  lovingkindness  of 
God  is  unalterable.  The  earth  which  the  sky  overshadows  has 
seen  many  mutations.  "  Surely  the  mountain  falling  cometh  to 
nought,  and  the  rock  is  removed  out  of  its  place.  The  waters 
wear  the  stones ;  thou  washest  away  the  things  that  grow  out  of 
the  dust  of  the  earth."  Eivers  have  altered  their  courses.  The 
sea  has  shifted  its  ancient  bounds.  Forests  have  sunk  in  swamps. 
Empires  have  risen  and  fallen.  The  grass  rustles  and  the  lizards 
bask  by  the  broken  columns  of  cities  that  pulsed  with  the 
interests  and  sounded  with  the  traffic  of  busy  men.  Generation 
after  generation  has  come  and  gone,  and  the  place  that  knew 
them  once  knows  them  no  more  for  ever.  Beneath  there  is 
nothing  but  flux,  restlessness,  change.  But  the  sky  has  looked 
down  on  it  all,  serene  and  unvarying,  amidst  all  the  overturning 
and  mutations  of  the  countless  years.  Time  writes  no  wrinkles 
on  its  steadfast  blue.  Orion  hangs  his  glittering  sword,  and  the 
Pleiades  weave  their  mystic  braids,  just  as  they  did  for  Isaac 
when  he  went  forth  to  the  field  to  meditate  at  the  eventide ;  for 
Abraham  when  God  took  him  out  from  his  tent,  and  bade  him 
I  look  up  to  heaven  with  the  promise  of  a  seed  that  should  be  as 
the  stars  of  heaven  for  multitude ;  for  Adam  when  the  first  day 
faded  over  him,  and  the  glories  of  the  night  revealed  themselves 


122   GOD  OF  NATURE  AND  OF  GRACE 


amidst  the  balm  and  the  silences  of  an  unstained  Eden.  So  with 
the  mercy  of  God.  All  down  the  ages  His  covenant  has  stood, 
ordered  in  all  things  and  sure  amidst  all  changes,  free  from 
variableness  or  any  shadow  of  turning.  As  the  heavens  that 
were  formed  of  old  "  continue  unto  this  day  according  to  God's 
ordinance,"  so  does  the  word  that  is  settled  there. 

^  Miss  K.  having  told  Dr.  Duncan  that  a  young  man  had  said 
at  a  meeting  that  "  there  was  not  mercy  in  God  from  everlasting 
— there  could  not  be  mercy  till  there  was  misery,"  he  said, 
"  God  is  unchangeable ;  mercy  is  an  attribute  of  God.  The  man 
is  confounding  mercy  with  the  exercise  of  mercy.  There  could 
not  be  the  exercise  of  mercy  till  there  was  misery ;  but  God  was 
always  a  merciful  God.  You  might  as  well  say  that  there  could 
not  be  justice  in  God  till  there  were  creatures  towards  whom  to 
exercise  punitive  justice."  ^ 

3.  Like  the  canopy  of  heaven,  the  lovingkindness  of  God  is 
all-embracing.  "The  noblest  scenes  of  earth,"  it  has  been  said, 
"  can  be  seen  and  known  but  by  few ;  it  is  not  intended  that  man 
should  live  always  in  the  midst  of  them ;  he  injures  them  by  his 
presence,  he  ceases  to  feel  them  if  he  be  always  with  them.  But 
the  sky  is  for  all.  Bright  as  it  is,  it  is  not  *  too  bright  or  good 
for  human  nature's  daily  food.'  It  is  fitted  in  all  its  functions 
for  the  perpetual  comfort  and  exaltation  of  the  heart."  No  rough 
hand  can  sully  the  clear  blue  vault  above,  as  it  unfolds  its 
splendour  and  dispenses  its  blessings  for  a  worldful  at  once,  and 
that  without  money  or  price.  Be  your  dwelling-place  on  the 
bleakest  and  dreariest  swamp,  without  a  tree  or  a  hill  to  diversify 
its  surface,  you  have  still  overhead  a  picture  of  loveliness  and  of 
mystery  as  often  as  you  choose  to  look  up.  Thread  the  narrowest 
thoroughfare  of  a  crowded  town,  and  far  above  the  filth  and 
squalor,  between  the  eaves  of  the  tall  and  tottering  tenements 
that  enclose  you,  there  are  strips  of  clear  blue  sky,  reminding 
you  that,  whatever  be  the  restlessness,  the  sorrow,  and  the  vice 
below,  there  is  nothing  above  but  beauty,  purity,  and  peace.  So 
again  with  the  mercy  of  our  God ;  it  is  exceeding  broad.  It  is 
the  attribute  of  all  attributes  that  is  ever  engirdling  and  over- 
shadowing us,  making  its  existence  known  through  a  thousand 
channels,  in  a  thousand  ways.    Mercy  is  the  very  sphere  in  which 

*  David  Brown,  Memoir  of  John  Duncan,  422. 

J 


PSALM  XXXVI.  5,  6 


123 


we  live  and  move ;  it  is  swift  as  the  light  of  heaven,  near  to  us 
as  its  circling  breaths.  And  it  is  just  as  free.  Eich  and  poor, 
high  and  low,  all  have  alike  a  share  in  it.  And  as  it  is  the  gift 
of  God  to  all,  so  is  it  the  gift  of  God  to  all  in  all  circumstances, 
throughout  every  change  of  their  changing  lives. 

^  The  Doctor  must  keep  his  temper :  this  is  often  worse  to 
manage  than  even  his  time,  there  is  so  much  unreason,  and 
ingratitude,  and  peevishness,  and  impertinence,  and  impatience, 
that  it  is  very  hard  to  keep  one's  tongue  and  eye  from  being 
angry;  and  sometimes  the  Doctor  does  not  only  well,  but  the 
best  when  he  is  downrightly  angry,  and  astonishes  some  fool,  or 
some  insolent,  or  some  untruth  doing  or  saying  patient ;  but  the 
Doctor  should  be  patient  with  his  patients,  he  should  bear  with 
them,  knowing  how  much  they  are  at  the  moment  suffering.  Let 
us  remember  Him  who  is  full  of  compassion,  whose  compassion 
never  fails ;  whose  tender  mercies  are  new  to  us  every  morning, 
as  His  faithfulness  is  every  night;  who  healed  all  manner  of 
diseases,  and  was  kind  to  the  unthankful  and  the  evil;  what 
would  become  of  us,  if  He  were  as  impatient  with  us  as  we  often 
are  with  each  other  ?  If  you  want  to  be  impressed  with  the 
Almighty's  infinite  loving-kindness  and  tender  mercy,  His 
forbearance,  His  long-suffering  patience,  His  slowness  to  anger, 
His  Divine  ingeniousness  in  trying  to  find  it  possible  to  spare 
and  save,  think  of  the  Israelites  in  the  desert,  and  read  the 
chapter  where  Abraham  intercedes  with  God  for  Sodom,  and 
these  wonderful   peradventures."  ^ 

^  My  fear  is  not  of  expanding,  but  of  contradicting,  the 
Gospel  which  we  are  sent  to  preach ;  not  of  seeing  too  strong  a 
testimony  in  the  Bible  to  the  will  of  Him  in  whom  is  light  and  no 
darkness  at  all,  but  of  limiting  its  testimonies  to  meet  my  narrow 
conceptions ;  not  of  exaggerating  the  duty  of  the  Church  to  be  a 
witness  against  all  hard  and  cruel  conceptions  of  our  Father  in 
Heaven,  which  lead  to  a  confusion  between  Him  and  the  Spirit  of 
Evil,  but  of  not  perceiving  how  manifold  are  the  ways  in  which 
that  duty  should  be  fulfilled.  I  am  sure  that  if  the  Gospel  is  not 
regarded  as  a  message  to  all  mankind  of  the  redemption  which 
God  has  effected  in  His  Son;  if  the  Bible  is  thought  to  be 
speaking  only  of  a  world  to  come,  and  not  of  a  Kingdom  of 
Eighteousness  and  Peace  and  Truth  with  which  we  may  be  in 
conformity  or  in  enmity  now ;  if  the  Church  is  not  felt  to  be  the 
hallower  of  all  professions  and  occupations,  the  bond  of  all  classes, 
the  instrument  of  reforming  abuses,  the  admonisher  of  the  rich^ 

^  Dr.  John  Brown,  Horce  Suhsecivce,  ii.  35  (appendix). 


124  GOD  OF  NATURE  AND  OF  GRACE 


the  friend  of  the  poor,  the  asserter  of  the  glory  of  that  humanity 
which  Christ  bears — we  are  to  blame,  and  God  will  call  us  to 
account  as  unfaithful  stewards  of  His  treasures.^ 

II. 

The  Faithfulness  of  God. 

"Thy  faithfulness  reacheth  unto  the  skies." 

God's  faithfulness  is  in  its  narrowest  sense  His  adherence  to 
His  promises.  It  implies,  in  that  sense,  a  verbal  revelation,  and 
definite  words  from  Him,  pledging  Him  to  a  certain  line  of 
action.  He  hath  said,  and  shall  He  not  do  it?  He  will  not 
alter  the  thing  that  is  gone  out  of  His  lips.  It  is  only  a  God  who 
has  actually  spoken  to  men  that  can  be  a  "  faithful  God."  He 
will  not  palter  with  a  double  sense,  keeping  His  word  of  promise 
to  the  ear,  and  breaking  it  to  the  hope.  And  not  only  His 
articulate  promises,  but  also  His  own  past  actions,  bind  Him. 
He  is  always  true  to  these ;  and  not  only  continues  to  do  as  He 
has  done,  but  discharges  every  obligation  which  His  past  imposes 
on  Him.  The  ostrich  was  said  to  leave  its  eggs  to  be  hatched  in 
the  sand.  Men  bring  men  into  positions  of  dependence,  and  then 
lightly  shake  responsibility  from  careless  shoulders.  But  God 
accepts  the  cares  laid  upon  Him  by  His  own  acts,  and  discharges 
them  to  the  last  jot.  He  is  a  "  faithful  Creator."  Creation  brings 
obligations  with  it — obligations  on  the  creature,  obligations  on  the 
Creator.  If  God  makes  a  being,  God  is  bound  to  take  care  of  the 
being  that  He  has  made.  If  He  makes  a  being  in  a  given  fashion, 
He  is  bound  to  provide  for  the  necessities  that  He  has  created. 
According  to  the  old  proverb,  if  He  makes  mouths  it  is  His 
business  to  feed  them.  And  He  recognizes  the  obligation.  His 
past  binds  Him  to  certain  conduct  in  His  future.  We  can  lay 
hold  on  the  former  manifestation,  and  we  can  plead  it  with  Him. 
"Thou  hast  been,  and  therefore  Thou  must  be."  "Thou  hast 
taught  me  to  trust  in  Thee ;  vindicate  and  warrant  my  trust  by 
Thy  unchangeableness."  So  His  word.  His  acts,  and  His  own 
nature,  bind  God  to  bless  and  help.    His  faithfulness  is  the 

^  Life  of  Frederick  Denison  Maurice^  ii.  227. 


PSALM  XXXVI.  5,  6 


125 


expression  of  His  unchangeableness.  "Because  he  could  swear 
by  no  greater,  he  sware  by  himself." 

^  I  believe  that  love  and  righteousness  and  justice  in  God  mean 
exactly  the  same  thing,  namely,  a  desire  to  bring  His  whole  moral 
creation  into  a  participation  of  His  own  character  and  His  own 
blessedness.  He  has  made  us  capable  of  this,  and  He  will  not 
cease  from  using  the  best  means  for  accomplishing  it  in  us  all. 
When  I  think  of  God  making  a  creature  of  such  capacities,  it 
seems  to  me  almost  blasphemous  to  suppose  that  He  will  throw 
it  from  Him  into  everlasting  darkness,  because  it  has  resisted  His 
gracious  purposes  towards  it  for  the  natural  period  of  human  life. 
No,  He  who  waited  so  long  for  the  formation  of  a  piece  of  old  red 
sandstone  will  surely  wait  with  much  long-suifering  for  the 
perfecting  of  a  human  spirit.^ 

1.  The  faithfulness  of  God  reaches  to  the  clouds  of  sin  and 
remorse. — Think  of  David  after  his  terrible  fall.  The  clouds 
gathered  round  him  then  as  they  never  gathered  before.  As  he 
had  sow^ed,  so  he  was  reaping ;  and  no  sufferings  are  so  terrible  or 
so  testing  as  the  sufferings  that  are  the  obvious  outcome  and 
natural  retribution  of  a  man's  own  follies  and  crimes.  What  of 
the  darkness  that  envelops  him  then — when  the  sword  that  he 
had  lifted  against  Uriah  was  turned  against  himself,  and  he  ex- 
perienced in  the  sins  of  his  family  the  reproduction  of  his  own,  to 
the  overshadowing  and  embitterment  of  his  later  years  ?  Youth 
gone  from  him,  his  spirit  crushed — does  the  man  lose  his  hope  and 
let  go  his  hold  on  the  promise  of  a  truth-keeping  God  ?  Behind 
clouds  such  as  these,  does  he  fail  to  grasp  and  to  cling  to  the  faith- 
fulness he  spoke  of  in  the  years  long  gone  by  ?  Listen :  "  Although 
my  house  be  not  so  with  God ;  yet  he  hath  made  with  me  an  ever- 
lasting covenant,  ordered  in  all  things,  and  sure :  for  this  is  all 
my  salvation,  and  all  my  desire,  though  he  make  it  not  to  grow." 
Yes,  whom  God  loves  He  loves  throughout,  and  He  loves  to  the 
end. 

^  A  friend  once  showed  an  artist  a  costly  handkerchief  on  which 
a  blot  of  ink  had  been  made.  "  Nothing  can  be  done  with  it  now, 
it  is  absolutely  worthless."  The  artist  made  no  reply,  but  carried  it 
away  with  him.  After  a  time  he  sent  it  back,  to  the  great  surprise 
of  his  friend,  who  could  scarcely  recognize  it.  In  a  most  skilful 
and  artistic  way  he  had  made  a  fine  design  in  India  ink,  using  the 
^  Letters  of  Thomas  Urskine  of  Linlathen,  ii.  242. 


126  GOD  OF  NATURE  AND  OF  GRACE 


blot  as  a  basis,  making  the  handkerchief  more  valuable  than  ever. 
A  blotted  life  is  not  necessarily  a  useless  life.  Jesus  can  make  a 
life  beautiful  though  it  has  been  marred  by  sin.^ 

2.  The  faithfulness  of  God  reaches  to  the  clouds  of  trouble. — 
God  has  hid  His  Church  ere  this  in  the  mountain  mists  and  in 
the  deep  places  of  the  earth,  till  they  were  dead  or  vanished  that 
sought  its  life. 

^  You  remember  the  story  of  the  godly  family  whose  home  lay 
across  the  track  a  returning  army  was  expected  to  follow,  when 
flushed  with  victory  and  athirst  for  rapine  and  blood.  "  Be  a  wall 
of  fire  unto  us,  0  God,"  was  the  prayer  which  the  father  put  up 
as  he  knelt  at  the  household  altar  ere  retiring  for  the  night,  and 
having  thus  committed  himself  and  his  circle  to  the  hands  of  a 
preserving  God,  he  and  they  together  laid  them  down  in  peace, 
and  took  their  quiet  rest,  knowing  who  it  was  that  made  them 
dwell  in  safety.  The  night-watches  hastened  on,  morning  came, 
and  the  family  awoke.  All  was  unwontedly  dark  and  still  when 
they  rose.  There  was  no  light  from  chink  or  from  window,  nor 
sound  of  stirring  life  around.  Noiselessly,  and  all  unseen,  the 
hand  whose  protection  they  craved  stole  forth  from  the  wintry 
heavens,  not,  indeed,  in  the  shape  of  a  wall  of  fire,  but  in  some- 
thing as  sufficient  and  safe — in  wreath  upon  wreath  of  driven 
snow.  Meanwhile  the  foe  had  passed  by,  and  had  gone  on  his 
way,  and  those  whom  he  threatened  breathed  freely,  for  they  knew 
that  their  tabernacle  was  at  peace.^ 

III. 

The  Eighteousness  of  God. 

"Thy  righteousness  is  like  the  mountains  of  God." 

1.  The  idea  in  the  mind  of  the  Psalmist  was  that  the  righteous- 
ness of  Jehovah  is  fixed  and  unchangeable.  Men's  ideas  of 
righteousness  may  change.  Those  of  one  age  may  differ  from  those 
of  another ;  one  land  may  have  a  different  standard  from  that  of 
another.  But  in  spite  of  this  there  is  an  everlasting,  an  unchanging 
righteousness  in  God.  Nothing  in  this  world  so  impresses  the 
mind  with  the  idea  of  unchangeableness  as  the  great  mountains. 

^  Twentieth  Century  Pastor y  xxviii.  (1911)  252. 
a  W.  A.  Gray,  The  Shadow  of  the  Hamd,  15. 


PSALM  XXXVI.  5,  6 


127 


The  dwellings  of  men  in  the  valleys  are  ever  undergoing  change  ; 
at  every  visit  something  new  strikes  one — the  fields  which  men 
cultivate  produce  their  different  crops,  the  forests  on  the  mountain 
sides  grow  denser  and  taller,  the  rivers  alter  their  course,  even  the 
sea  is  restless,  now  receding  from  and  now  encroaching  on  the  land ; 
but  the  great  mountains  seem  to  be  lifted  to  a  realm  beyond 
change.  The  snow  upon  them,  it  is  true,  is  ever  melting;  the 
glaciers  between  them  are  ever  moving,  but  the  granite  rock 
beneath  seems  ever  the  same.  The  generations  of  men  who  dwell 
beneath  them  live  their  little  life  and  pass  away ;  year  after  year 
new  and  wondering  eyes  look  up  to  these  mountains,  but  there  they 
stand,  the  most  impressive  symbol  of  permanence  in  a  world  of 
change. 

(1)  The  mountains  are  stable  and  permanent. — The  mountains 
were  thought  to  be  the  most  ancient  parts  of  the  earth,  the  frame- 
work on  which  the  Great  Architect  of  the  Universe  had  builded ; 
next  the  earth  generally ;  and  then  the  world,  or,  in  the  Hebrew 
sense,  the  fruitful,  habitable  part  of  the  earth.  So  in  the 
Athanasian  Creed,  "  The  Father  eternal,  the  Son  eternal,  and  the 
Holy  Ghost  eternal."  Eternal  and  changelessly  the  same  through- 
out eternity,  and  therefore  we  do  not  read,  "  Thou  wast  God  from 
everlasting,"  or,  "  Thou  wilt  be  God  world  without  end  " ;  but, 
"Thou  art  God,  the  same  past,  present,  and  to  come."  As  we 
look  up  to-day,  so  have  the  successive  generations  of  men  lifted 
up  their  eyes  to  the  mountains  that  speak  to  each  of  an  unimagin- 
able and  almost  limitless  past. 

^  Stand  at  the  mountain's  foot  and  look  up  at  its  high  head, 
and  remember  how  it  has  braved  many  a  storm  which  hissed  itself 
out  of  breath  over  it,  and  it  still  remains  to-day  scarred  like  a 
veteran,  it  is  true,  but  yet  proud  and  firm  on  the  victorious  field. 

His  proud  head  the  airy  mountain  hides 
Among  the  clouds ;  his  shoulders  and  his  sides 
A  shady  mantle  clothes;  his  curling  brows 
Frown  on  the  gentle  stream,  which  calmly  flows ; 
While  winds  and  storms  his  lofty  forehead  beat, — 
The  common  fate  of  all  that's  high  and  great. 

It  was  not  yesterday  that  it  was  reared ;  it  will  not  fall  to-morrow ; 
but  it  has  seen  generation  after  generation  come  and  go,  with  all 
their  faith  and  fear,  their  love  and  lust,  their  weal  and  woe ;  and 


128  GOD  OF  NATURE  AND  OF  GRACE 


to-day  it  looks  down  upon  another  race  which  trusts  and  trembles, 
sins  and  sorrows,  loves  and  laughs,  as  though  they  were  the  first 
that  mountain  ever  looked  upon.  Oh !  if  it  could  only  speak,  it 
would  tell  us  how  the  actors  constantly  change  on  the  stage  of 
Time;  that  the  play,  now  tragic,  now  comic,  oftenest  common- 
place, is  always  the  same,  and  that  it  has  seen  it  acted  over  and 
over  again ;  and  yet  it  looks  on  with  no  tired  look.  Whenever 
you  see  the  mountain,  you  see  that  which  is  very  old,  and  that 
which  is  very  young.  The  signs  of  its  age  are  also  the  symbols 
of  its  youth.  It  transmutes  the  furrows  of  its  old  age  into  the 
dimples  of  childhood's  laughter.  Perpetual  youth  is  the  preroga- 
tive of  the  old  mountain.  It  lasts,  lives  on- 
Eternal  pyramids,  built  not  with  hands. 

From  linked  foundations  that  deep-hidden  lie. 
Ye  rise  apart,  and  each  a  wonder  stands ! 

Your  marble  peaks,  which  pierce  the  clouds  so  high, 
Seem  holding  up  the  curtain  of  the  sky; 

And  there,  sublime  and  solemn,  have  ye  stood, 
While  crumbling  Time,  o'er-awed,  passed  reverent  by. 

Since  Nature's  resurrection  from  the  flood. 
Since  earth,  new  born,  again  received  God's  plaudit,  "  Good  ! " 

How  many  races  have  ye  seen  descend 

Into  Time's  grave,  the  lowly  with  the  great ; 

How  many  kingdoms  seen  asunder  rend. 

How  many  empires  fall,  how  many  centuries  end  ?  ^ 

(2)  The  righteousness  of  God  is  more  permanent  than  the 
mountains. — Though  the  mountains  seem  as  if  they  did  not  change, 
yet  they  do  change.  The  atmospheric  influences  which  play  upon 
them  do  alter  them,  though  the  alteration  may  be  imperceptible 
to  men  who  can  observe  them  only  for  a  few  brief  years.  But 
absolutely  without  change  is  the  righteousness  of  God.  How  is 
God's  righteousness  shown  ?  Most  of  all  in  His  kindness.  And 
so  Isaiah  says,  "  For  the  mountains  shall  depart,  and  the  hills  be 
removed;  but  my  righteousness  shall  not  depart  from  thee, 
neither  shall  the  covenant  of  my  peace  be  removed,  saith  the 
Lord  that  hath  mercy  on  thee."  There  is  one  thing  in  this 
universe  of  change  which  is  absolutely  without  change,  and  that 
is  the  eternal  righteousness :  "  I  the  Lord  change  not ;  therefore 
ye,  0  sons  of  Jacob,  are  not  consumed."  Here  is  a  resting-place 
^  J.  A.  Davies,  Seven  Words  of  Love,  168. 


PSALM  XXXVI.  5,  6  129 

for  our  souls.  In  this  world  nothing  abides  in  one  stage.  We 
move  from  childhood  to  youth,  from  youth  to  manhood,  from 
manhood  to  old  age,  from  old  age  to  the  unseen  world,  but  God 
changes  not.  We  pass  into  new  relationships,  from  being 
children  to  being  parents,  from  having  to  serve  to  having  to 
govern,  from  the  active  government  of  manhood  to  the  quiescent 
stage  of  old  age ;  friends  drop  from  our  side,  old  bonds  are  broken, 
new  bonds  are  formed;  but  in  the  midst  of  this  sea  of  change! 
where  the  waters  are  ever  in  movement,  now  receding,  now  ad- 
vancing, there  is  a  rock  which  abides— the  righteousness  of  God. 
There  is  one  point  on  which  the  eye  can  rest.  There  is  one  spot 
on  which  the  foot  can  be  planted.  There  is  one  place  of  anchor- 
age for  the  soul— the  rightousness  of  God. 

H  Geologists  tell  us  that  these  giants  of  Bernese  mountains 
ire  but  a  third  now  of  their  original  height,  and  we  know  how  to 
luote  Euskm,  "The  hills,  which,  as  compared  with  human  beings 
5eem  everlasting,  are  in  truth  as  perishing  as  they,  their  veins  of 
lowing  fountain  weary  the  mountain  heart,  as  the  common  pulse 
iocs  ours;  the  natural  force  of  the  iron  crag  is  abated  in  its 
ippomted  time,  like  the  strength  of  the  sinews  in  a  human  old 
ige;  and  it  is  but  the  lapse  of  the  larger  years  of  decay  which 
n  the  sight  of  the  Creator,  distinguishes  the  mountain  range' 
rom  the  moth  and  the  worm."  Yet  God  and  His  attributes  and 
!ven  His  relations  to  man,  remain  unchanged,  and  from  this 
reasury  Isaiah  picks  out  the  two  jewels  of  kindness  and  peace 
or  our  thankful  contemplation.^ 

Tl  Arthur  Clough,  whose  early  death  prevented  him  from 
.ecommg  the  foremost  poet  of  the  age,  and  who  passed  through 
aany  spiritual  vicissitudes,  felt  and  expressed  this  in  his  noble 
mes : 

It  fortifies  my  soul  to  know 

That,  though  I  perish.  Truth  is  so: 

That,  howsoe'er  I  stray  and  range,  ' 

Whate'er  I  do,  Thou  dost  not  change. 

I  steadier  step  when  I  recall  ^ 

That,  if  I  slip,  Thou  dost  not  fall.2 

2.  The  righteousness  of  God  is  like  the  great  mountains  in 
8  power  to  inspire  awe,  wonder,  and  reverence.    The  great 

^  J.  W.  Horsley,  in  The  Chwrch  Times.  July  28  1911 
*  W.  Garrett  Horder.  j     >  - 

PS.  xxv.-cxix. — 9 


I30  GOD  OF  NATURE  AND  OF  GRACE 


height  of  mountains,  the  vastness  of  their  bulk,  and  their  far- 
reaching  extent  overawe  the  spectator,  and  dwarf  him  into 
insignificance  in  their  presence.  Their  dark  and  frowning  crags, 
their  awful  chasms,  and  their  mysterious  yet  gigantic  forms  shut 
his  lips  in  silent  awe,  and  chasten  his  thoughtless  spirit  into 
seriousness  and  reflection.  If  they  should  fall  upon  him  he  is 
crushed  like  an  insect  by  the  foot.  A  thunder-storm  among  the 
mountains  is  an  awful  thing.  Once  experienced,  it  will  never  be 
forgotten.  The  Law  of  Moses  was  fitly  given  amid  thunderings 
and  lightnings  and  a  great  earthquake  among  the  mountains  of 
Sinai.  Like  the  great  mountains  the  righteousness  of  God  is  an 
awful  thing.  When  we  are  first  convinced  of  sin  and  stand  in 
the  presence  of  God  we  tremble  and  cry  out  for  fear. 

^  "So  Christian  turned  out  of  his  way  to  go  to  Mr.  Legality's 
House  for  help :  but  behold,  when  he  was  got  now  hard  by  the 
Hill,  it  seemed  so  high,  and  also  that  side  of  it  that  was  next  the 
wayside,  did  hang  so  much  over,  that  Christian  was  afraid  to 
venture  further,  lest  the  Hill  should  fall  on  his  Head  ;  wherefore 
there  he  stood  still ;  and  wotted  not  what  to  do.  Also  his  burden- 
now  seemed  heavier  to  him  than  while  he  was  in  his  way.  There 
came  also  flashes  of  fire  out  of  the  Hill  that  made  Christian 
afraid  that  he  should  be  burned :  here  therefore  he  sweat,  and  did 
quake  for  fear."  ^ 

(1)  The  real  greatness  of  the  mountains  appears  only  as  we 
approach  them.  We  look  up  at  them  from  the  valleys  and  fancy 
that  an  hour's  climb  will  bring  us  to  their  summit.  It  seems 
as  if  we  could  shoot  an  arrow  to  the  top ;  but  we  begin  to  climb, 
and  as  we  climb  they  seem  to  lift  their  heads  higher  and  higher. 
And  so  it  is  with  the  righteousness  of  God.  Until  we  begin  to 
strive  after  it,  it  seems  within  easy  reach;  it  is  only  when  we 
begin  the  long  ascent  that  its  height  is  really  felt,  and  the 
higher  we  go  the  loftier  does  it  appear.  The  man  who  has 
climbed  highest  in  the  way  of  righteousness  knows  best  how 
great  is  the  distance  he  has  yet  to  climb.  Indeed,  to  the  man 
who  has  not  begun  to  strive  after  righteousness,  it  seems  most 
easy  of  attainment.  It  seems  to  him  far  easier  to  be  righteous 
than  to  be  learned,  or  muscular,  or  inventive.  He  stands  more 
amazed  at  some  great  work  of  art,  or  literature,  or  mechanical 
contrivance  than  at  the  sight  of  righteousness  in  man.  And 

*  Bunyan,  Pilgrim's  Progress  (Cambridge  edition),  162. 


PSALM  XXXVI.  5,  6  131 

why  ?    The  one  can  be  apprehended  by  the  eye  and  the  other 
can  be  apprehended  only  by  the  heart,  and  his  heart  has  not 
been  trained  by  the  pursuit  of  righteousness  to  appreciate  its 
glory.    Eighteousness  is  only  spiritually  discerned.    It  cannot  be 
I  seen  by  the  eye,  or  heard  by  the  ear,  or  felt  by  the  hand.  It 
needs  a  deeper  faculty.    The  delicate,  subtle  fancy  of  poetry,  or 
j  the  grace  of  art,  or  the  exquisite  suggestiveness  of  the  noblest 
music  is  not  discerned   by  the  uncultured.     Preparation  is 
^needed  before  any  of  these  can  be  discerned.    And  the  beauty  of 
holiness,  which  is  only  another  name  for  righteousness,  is  not 
revealed  save  to  those  who,  by  striving  after  it,  have  realized  the 
difficulty  and  glory  of  its  attainment.    Only  those  who  have 
begun  to  walk  in  the  way  of  righteousness  know  how  lofty,  how 
far  olf,  how  difficult  to  reach,  is  the  position  to  which  the  great 
Master,  Christ,  calls  us  when  He  says,  "  Be  ye  therefore  perferjt, 
even  as  your  Father  which  is  in  heaven  is  perfect." 

If  About  ten  days  ago  we  started  from  the  valley  of  Zermatt 
which  IS  Itself  some  thousands  of  feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea' 
and  for  nearly  five  hours  were  climbing  up  to  the  well-known 
Gorner  Gratz,  and  when  we  reached  it,  the  Matterhorn,  instead 
of  seemmg  nearer,  positively  seemed  farther  off,  the  distance  to 
the  summit  appeared  greater.  When  we  were  in  the  valley  the 
lower  mountains  around  its  base  seemed  to  lessen  the  distance 
ind  only  when  these  were  scaled  could  we  realize  its  awful 
leight.^ 

(2)  The  summits  of  the  mountains  are  clearly  revealed  only  as 
ihe  sun  lifts  the  clouds.  And  so  it  is  with  the  righteousness  of 
,^od.  Clouds  and  darkness  are  round  about  Him,  until  Christ, 
)he  Sun  of  Eighteousness,  arises,  and  brings  Him  into  view.' 
Before,  all  was  mystery  and  gloom  to  men.  Their  eyes  could  not 
nerce  the  cloud.  They  feared  as  they  entered  therein.  But  on  the 
nystery  Christ  threw  His  revealing  light,  so  that  the  clouds  were 
ifted  and  all  stood  out  in  startling  clearness.  And  then  men  be^ran 
0  realize  that  the  righteousness  which  seemed  so  repellent  was 
•ut  the  vesture  of  love;  nay,  that  there  could  not  be  any  real 
ighteousness  unless,  at  its  very  heart,  there  was  the  fire  of  love; 
list  as  there  could  not  be  any  verdure  or  beauty  on  the  earth  but 
or  the  central  core  of  fire  within. 

^  W.  Garrett  Border. 


I 


132   GOD  OF  NATURE  AND  OF  GRACE 


I  stand  upon  the  mount  of  God, 

With  sunlight  in  my  soul; 
I  hear  the  storms  in  vales  beneath, 

I  hear  the  thunders  roll. 

But  I  am  calm  with  Thee,  my  God, 

Beneath  these  glorious  skies ; 
And  to  the  height  on  which  I  stand 

Nor  storms  nor  clouds  can  rise. 

Oh,  this  is  life !    Oh,  this  is  joy ! 

My  God,  to  find  Thee  so! 
Thy  face  to  see,  Thy  voice  to  hear. 

And  all  Thy  love  to  know. 

3.  Mountain  chains  have  been  a  refuge  for  the  oppressed  in 
all  ages.  Liberty,  bruised  and  broken  on  the  level  plain,  has  fled 
into  the  mountain  ranges  and  there  has  found  a  refuge.  Out  of 
the  level  plains  of  Egypt  Israel  escapes  and  finds  its  life  in  the 
rocky  ranges  of  Mount  Horeb.  In  the  mountains  of  Palestine  the 
Israelites  escape  from  Moabitish  hosts  on  the  east  of  them  and  the 
Philistine  hosts  on  the  south  of  them.  In  the  mountain  caves  of 
En-gedi  David  hides  from  the  persecuting  hosts  of  Saul.  In  the 
mountains  Greece  finds  its  escape  from  the  overwhelming  Persian 
hosts.  In  the  mountains  of  Switzerland  liberty  is  cradled,  while 
all  over  Europe  despotism  is  triumphant.  In  the  mountains  of 
Northern  Italy  the  Waldenses  keep  alive  the  Protestant  religion 
before  Protestantism  has  been  born. 

We  are  not  accustomed  to  think  that  God  is  a  refuge  because 
of  His  righteousness.  We  rather,  perhaps,  think  His  righteous- 
ness closes  His  heart  to  us  in  our  sinfulness.  Perhaps  we  will  say 
that  a  good  man,  a  benevolent  man,  a  merciful  man,  will  serve  as 
a  refuge  to  us  in  our  hour  of  need,  but  not  a  man  strong  in  his 
righteousness.  And  yet,  if  we  will  consider  a  little,  it  is  not  the 
righteousness,  it  is  the  unrighteousness,  of  men  that  makes  them 
unmerciful  and  therefore  repellent.  One  man  repels  another,  not 
because  the  first  man  is  too  righteous  to  have  mercy,  but  because 
he  is  not  righteous  enough.  The  men  that  are  fighting  scepti- 
cism are  half  sceptics.  The  man  who  only  half  believes  is  at 
enmity  with  the  man  who  does  not  believe  at  all,  because  he  is  in 


PSALM  XXXVI.  5,  6 


133 


perpetual  fear  lest  his  half -belief  shall  be  taken  away  from  him  ; 
but  he  who  is  anchored,  by  a  chain  that  cannot  be  broken,  to  the 
eternal  verities  has  no  fear,  and  therefore  has  a  heart  open  to  all 
argument  and  all  reasons,  and  considers  them  with  patience  and 
gentleness.  So  it  is  a  dormant  sense  of  unrighteousness  in  us  that 
makes  us  afraid  of  the  unrighteous. 

^  In  that  marvellous  story,  Hawthorne's  Marble  Faun,  when 
Miriam  has  fallen  into  a  great  sin  and  comes  to  Hilda,  and  Hilda 
will  not  receive  her  because  of  that  sin,  bidding  her  not  come 
nearer,  and  Miriam  cries,  "Because  I  have  sinned  I  need  your 
friendship  the  more,"  Hilda  replies,  "  If  I  were  one  of  God's  angels, 
incapable  of  stain,  I  would  keep  ever  at  your  side  and  try  to  lead 
you  upward.  But  I  am  a  poor,  lonely  girl,  and  God  has  given  me 
my  purity,  and  told  me  to  take  it  back  to  Him  unstained,  and  I 
dare  not  associate  with  the  criminal  lest  I  carry  back  to  Him  a 
stained  and  spotted  garment."  It  is  the  consciousness  of  a 
dormant  impurity  in  the  pure  Hilda  that  makes  her  dread  to 
receive  to  her  heart  the  impure  as  her  companion.  It  is  not 
Hilda's  perfection  of  righteousness,  it  is  her  imperfection,  that 
makes  her  fail  as  a  refuge  to  poor,  sinful,  despairing  Miriam. 
Now,  God's  righteousness  is  of  the  kind  that  never  can  be 
harmed.^ 

IV. 

The  Judgments  of  God. 

"  Thy  judgements  are  a  great  deep." 

By  "judgments"  are  not  meant  merely  the  acts  of  God's 
punitive  righteousness,  the  retributions  that  destroy  evil-doers,  but 
all  God's  decisions  and  acts  in  regard  to  man.  Or,  to  put  it  into 
other  and  briefer  words,  God's  judgments  are  the  whole  of  the 
"  ways,"  the  methods  of  the  Divine  government.  So  St.  Paul,  allud- 
ing to  this  very  passage,  when  he  says,  "  How  unsearchable  are  his 
judgments,"  adds,  as  a  parallel  clause,  meaning  the  same  thing, 
"  and  thy  ways  past  finding  out."  That  includes  all  that  men  call, 
in  a  narrower  sense,  judgments ;  but  it  includes,  too,  all  acts  of 
kindness  and  loving  gifts.  God's  judgments  are  the  expressions 
of  His  thoughts,  and  these  thoughts  are  thoughts  of  good  and  not 
of  evil. 

*  Lyman  Abbott. 


134  GOD  OF  NATURE  AND  OF  GRACE 

Perhaps  it  was  the  great  and  wide  sea  that  the  Psalmist 
thought  of  while  he  spoke — the  secret  of  whose  depths  only  Omni- 
science could  see,  the  noise  of  whose  billows  only  Omnipotence 
could  still.  Or  perhaps  it  was  some  land-locked  lake,  on  whose 
shining  surface  he  looked  down,  as  it  crisped  with  the  breezes  or 
slept  in  the  calms  of  a  long  summer  day.  But  in  either  case,  the 
picture  yields  a  ready  lesson :  "  Thy  judgments,"  he  says,  "  are  a 
great  deep."  It  is  the  one  touch  that  is  needed  to  enhance  the 
description ;  for  what  were  mercy,  faithfulness,  and  righteousness, 
without  infinite  wisdom  to  plan  and  direct  the  whole  ?  But  this 
wisdom  is  evermore  a  great  deep,  unsearchable  and  unfathomable, 
whether  it  lies  in  the  heart  of  God  as  His  purpose,  or  in  the  word 
of  God  as  His  statutes,  or  in  the  ways  of  God  as  His  Providence. 
"  Canst  thou  by  searching  find  out  God  ?  Canst  thou  find  out  the 
Almighty  unto  perfection  ?  It  is  high  as  heaven ;  what  canst 
thou  do  ?  deeper  than  hell ;  what  canst  thou  know  ?  The  measure 
thereof  is  longer  than  the  earth,  and  broader  than  the  sea."  "  0 
the  depth  of  the  riches  both  of  the  wisdom  and  knowledge  of  God ! 
How  unsearchable  are  his  judgments,  and  his  ways  past  finding 
out!" 

1.  The  deep  means  mystery.  We  cannot  escape  the  mystery 
in  life,  it  is  true,  just  as  we  cannot  explore  all  ocean's  secrets. 
But  it  is  not  wisdom  to  think  we  have  touched  bottom  because  the 
plummet  ceases  to  descend.  The  plumb  line  slackens  in  our  hands. 
But  that  may  mean  only  that  life  is  too  deep  for  our  pessimists' 
soundings,  which  have  never  gone  deeper  than  the  shifting  surface 
tides.  What  is  the  obscurity  of  the  sea  ?  Not  that  which  comes 
from  mud,  or  anything  added,  but  that  which  comes  from  depth. 
As  far  as  a  man  can  see  down  into  its  blue-green  depths  they  are 
clear  and  translucent ;  but  when  the  light  fails  and  the  eye  fails, 
there  comes  what  we  call  obscurity.  The  sea  is  clear,  but  our 
sight  is  limited. 

II  Here  towers  Vesuvius ;  there  at  its  feet  lie  the  waters  of 
the  bay.  So  the  Kighteousness  springs  up  like  some  great  cliff, 
rising  sheer  from  the  water's  edge,  while  its  feet  are  laved  by  the 
sea  of  the  Divine  judgments,  unfathomable  and  shoreless.  The 
mountains  and  the  sea  are  the  two  grandest  things  in  nature,  and 
in  their  combination  sublime;  the  one  the  home  of  calm  and 


PSALM  XXXVI.  5,  6 


135 


silence,  the  other  perpetual  motion.  But  the  mountain's  roots 
are  deeper  than  the  depths  of  the  sea,  and  though  the  judgments 
are  a  mighty  deep,  the  righteousness  is  deeper,  and  is  the  bed  of 
the  ocean.1 

2.  The  righteousness  of  God  is  seen  in  His  judgments.  In 
God's  nature  the  mountain  height  answers  back  to  the  sea  deep ; 
the  great  deep  of  judgment  reflects  the  mountain  summits  of 
righteousness  in  its  clear  calm.  We  need  to  remember  this  great 
truth  of  the  unity  of  God's  purpose  in  the  world;  for  the  age 
which  disputes  most  passionately  the  justice  of  God's  judgments 
is  the  age  which  most  completely  ignores  or  opposes  His  com- 
mands. A  man  on  the  cliff  can  look  much  deeper  into  the  ocean 
than  a  man  on  the  level  beach.  The  farther  we  climb  the  farther 
we  shall  see  down  into  the  "  sea  of  glass  mingled  with  fire  "  that 
lies  placid  before  God's  throne.  Let  us  remember  that  it  is  a 
hazardous  thing  to  judge  of  a  picture  before  it  is  finished,  of  a 
building  before  the  scaffolding  is  pulled  down ;  and  it  is  a  hazardous 
thing  for  us  to  say  about  any  deed  or  any  revealed  truth  that  it 
is  inconsistent  with  the  Divine  character.  Let  us  wait  a  bit ! 
"  Thy  judgments  are  a  great  deep."  The  deep  will  be  drained  off 
one  day,  and  we  shall  see  the  bottom  of  it.  Let  us  judge  nothing 
before  the  time. 

If  If  we  believe  in  the  Father  and  His  good  purpose  towards 
us,  what  we  require  of  affliction  and  of  suffering,  what  we  have  a 
right  to  require,  is  this,  that  it  should  be  felt  to  be  helping  us  and 
purifying  us.  God  gives  us  a  natural  sense  of  justice,  implanting 
it  deep  in  our  hearts ;  and  it  is  through  this  sense  of  justice  that 
all  the  best  victories  of  humanity  have  been  won.  .  .  .  The  Father 
cannot  have  it  in  His  heart  that  we  should  merely  be  crushed  and 
silenced  by  our  punishment ;  that  we  should  submit,  simply  be- 
cause there  is  no  way  out,  as  a  little  bird  submits  to  be  torn  by  a 
hawk.  If  our  submission  is  like  that,  it  is  worth  nothing ;  it  only 
plunges  our  spirit  in  deeper  darkness.^ 

II  One  night  when  I  was  recently  crossing  the  Atlantic,  an 
officer  of  our  boat  told  me  that  we  had  just  passed  over  the  spot 
where  the  Titanic  went  down.  And  I  thought  of  all  that  life  and 
wreckage  beyond  the  power  of  man  to  recover  and  redeem.  And 
I  thought  of  the  great  bed  of  the  deep  sea,  with  all  its  held 

*  A.  Maclaren. 

*  k  C.  Benson,  Thy  Rod  and  Thy  Staff,  106. 


136   GOD  OF  NATURE  AND  OF  GRACE 


treasure,  too  far  down  for  man  to  reach  and  restore.  "  Too  far 
down ! "  And  then  I  thought  of  all  the  human  wreckage  en- 
gulfed and  sunk  in  oceanic  depths  of  nameless  sin.  Too  far  gone  ! 
Tor  what?  Too  far  down!  For  what?  Not  too  far  down  for 
the  love  of  God !  Listen  to  this :  "  He  descended  into  hell,"  and 
He  will  descend  again  if  you  are  there.  "  If  I  make  my  bed  in 
hell,  thou  art  there."  "Where  sin  abounded,  grace  did  much 
more  abound."  "  He  lore  our  sin " ;  then  He  got  beneath  it ; 
down  to  it  and  beneath  it ;  and  there  is  no  human  wreckage 
lying  in  the  ooze  of  the  deepest  sea  of  iniquity  that  His  deep  love 
cannot  reach  and  redeem.  What  a  Gospel !  However  far  down, 
God's  love  can  get  beneath  it !  ^ 

1  J.  H.  Jowett,  Things  That  Matter  Most  {191Z),  17. 


Life  and  Light. 


«37 


Literature, 


Benson  (E.  W.),  Boy-Life,  32. 

Brooks  (P.),  Sermons  Preached  in  English  Churches,  89. 
Cooke  (G.  A.),  The  Progress  of  Revelation,  3. 
Creighton  (M.),  The  Heritage  of  the  Spirit,  185. 
Matheson  (G.),  Leaves  for  Quiet  Hours,  192. 
Morrison  (G.  H.),  The  Unlighted  Lustre,  30. 
Stone  (D.),  The  Discipline  of  Faith,  31. 

Thackeray  (F.  St.  John),  Sermons  Preached  in  Eton  College  Chapel,  105. 
Vaughan  (J.),  Sermons  (Brighton  Pulpit),  viii.  (1871),  No.  742;  xxii. 

(1883),  No.  1232  ;  xxiii.  (1883),  No.  1259. 
Cambridge  Review,  ix.  Supplement  No.  232  (R.  Machray). 
Christian  Commonwealth,  xxxii.  (1912)  437  (R  J.  Campbell). 
Christian  World  Pulpit,  xvi.  106  (J.  B.  Heard) ;  xx.  392  (J.  B.  Tinling). 
Church  of  England  Pulpit,  Ixiii.  76  (M.  P.  Maturin). 
Churchman's  Pulpit :  The  Epiphany,  iii.  286  (G.  F.  Terry). 
Preacher's  Magazine,  v.  (1894)  97  (C.  New). 
Sunday  Magazine^  1881,  p.  702  (J.  Robertson). 


X38 


Life  and  Light. 


For  with  thee  is  the  fountain  of  life: 

In  thy  light  shall  we  see  light. — Ps.  xxxvi.  9. 

St.  Augustine  asks, "  What  is  the  fountain  of  life,  unless  Christ  ? " 
and  he  adds,  "  He  who  is  the  Fountain  is  the  Light."  Our  Lord 
said,  "  Whensoever  I  am  in  the  world,  I  am  the  light  of  the 
world " ;  and  again,  "  I  am  the  light  of  the  world ;  he  that 
followeth  me  shall  have  the  light  of  life."  This  is  further 
explained  by  St.  John,  with  reference  to  our  Lord  as  the  Word : 
"  That  which  hath  been  made  in  him  is  life,  and  the  life  was  the 
light  of  men."  Thus  we  have  continually  associated  together  as 
in  the  text  the  two  ideas  of  life  and  light,  both  finding  their 
fullest  meaning  in  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  As  gifts  or  possessions 
from  Him  and  through  Him,  we  cannot  separate  them.  The 
presence  of  the  one  bespeaks  the  presence  of  the  other,  and  each 
the  recreating  presence  of  the  Spirit  of  God.  Light  necessarily 
comes  to  us  if  there  is  life,  and  life  necessarily  issues  when  light 
enters. 

^  On  some  of  the  Alpine  passes  there  are  rude  shelters  for  dis- 
tressed travellers,  but  they  are  only  shelters  ;  they  hold  no  food,  no 
water,  no  light,  no  warmth  ;  the  man  they  have  saved  may  perish 
within  their  walls.  The  Eedeemer  is  sometimes  thought  of  as  a 
mere  refuge  to  flee  to  from  condemnation.  How  imperfect  that 
is ;  for  though  we  are  saved  from  condemnation  we  have  as  many 
wants  as  heart-beats ;  but  when  the  eyes  of  the  refugee  are  opened 
he  sees  a  home  there,  and  everything  he  needs  for  all  time,  for 
all  events,  for  all  perfection.  We  flee  to  Him  for  safety,  but  He 
puts  this  song  into  our  mouth : 

Thou,  0  Christ,  art  all  I  want, 
More  than  all  in  Thee  I  find.^ 
^  Charles  New. 


139 


140 


LIFE  AND  LIGHT 


L 

The  Source  of  Life. 

"  With  thee  is  the  fountain  of  life." 

1.  God  is  the  fountain  of  life  in  the  merely  physical  sense. 
He  has  life  in  Himself,  and  He  communicates  His  life  in  multi- 
tudinous forms.  He  does  not  derive  His  life :  it  rises  eternally 
in  Himself.  The  life  we  need  is  ever  flowing  from  God.  All  the 
life  in  the  universe,  visible  and  invisible,  is  from  Him.  Vegetable 
life  with  its  myriad  forms,  in  hedgerow,  garden,  forest,  and  field ; 
animal  life  from  the  tiniest  animalculas  to  the  mammoths  of 
Eastern  lands ;  human  lives — which  die,  we  are  told,  at  the  rate 
of  nearly  4000  every  hour,  their  places  being  taken  by  as  many 
more ;  lives  in  the  unseen  world,  the  innumerable  inhabitants  of 
the  unseen  state.  Space  throbs  and  palpitates  with  life.  What 
a  conception  it  gives  of  the  almightiness  of  our  Heavenly  Father ! 
Of  all  this  life  He  is  the  source. 

2.  But  life  is  more  than  physical  existence;  it  is  fellowship 
with  the  Unseen.  When  God  passed  from  the  formation  of 
His  other  creatures  to  the  creation  of  man,  He  added  something 
over  and  above  what  they  had,  something  direct  from  Himself 
to  make  life ;  He  "  breathed  into  his  nostrils  the  breath  of  life ; 
and  man  became  a  living  soul."  Sin  changed  the  base  of  life; 
it  made  another  base  necessary.  God  put  all  life  into  His  Son. 
And  that  life  which  is  in  Christ  is  the  real  spring  and  essence  of 
all  that  constitutes  true  human  life.  There  must  be  generation 
from  Him ;  there  must  be  contact  with  Him ;  there  must  be  union 
with  Him  to  make  life — life  properly  so  called — the  life  which 
is  the  being  of  a  man — the  life  that  fulfils  the  end  of  life — the 
life  that  is  for  ever  and  for  ever.  The  beginning  of  life,  then, 
man's  real  life,  is  oneness  with  the  Lord  Jesus. 

^  Life  in  the  Old  Testament  is  primarily  the  physical,  earthly 
life,  the  sum  of  energies  which  make  up  man's  actual  existence. 
The  soul  separated  from  the  body  does  not  cease  to  be,  but  it 
forfeits  its  portion  in  the  true  life.  Two  factors,  however,  were 
latent  in  the  Old  Testament  conception  from  the  beginning,  and 
became  more  and  more  prominent  in  the  course  of  the  later 


PSALM  XXXVI.  9 


141 


development.  In  the  first  place,  the  radical  element  in  life  is 
activity.  Mere  physical  existence  is  distinguished  from  that 
essential  life  which  consists  in  the  unrestricted  play  of  all  the 
energies,  especially  of  the  higher  and  more  characteristic.  In 
the  loftier  passages  of  the  Psalms,  more  particularly,  the  idea  of 
"  life  "  has  nearly  always  a  pregnant  sense.  It  is  associated  with 
joy,  prosperity,  peace,  wisdom,  righteousness;  man  "lives" 
according  as  he  has  free  scope  for  the  activities  which  are  most 
distinctive  of  his  spiritual  nature.  God  Himself  is  emphatically 
the  "living  one."  He  is  the  creative,  ever -active  God — 
sufficient  to  Himself,  the  source  of  all  reality  and  power.  Life 
is  His  supreme  attribute,  distinguishing  Him  from  men  with  their 
thousand  weaknesses  and  limitations.  The  other  factor  in  the 
Old  Testament  conception  is  even  more  important  in  its  bearing 
on  later  thought.  Since  God  alone  possesses  life  in  the  highest 
sense,  fellowship  with  Him  is  the  one  condition  on  which  men 
can  obtain  it.  "With  thee  is  the  fountain  of  life."  In  the 
higher  regions  of  Old  Testament  thought,  life  and  communion 
with  God  are  interchangeable  ideas.  The  belief  in  immortality 
is  never  expressly  stated,  but,  as  Jesus  Himself  indicates,  it  was 
implicit  in  this  knowledge  of  a  God  "  who  was  not  the  God  of  the 
dead,  but  of  the  living."  ^ 

3.  And  this  life  is  conveyed  to  man  through  Christ.  He 
secures  it  for  us  by  the  surrender  of  His  own  life,  His  sacrifice 
on  Calvary,  thus  making  it  possible  for  the  Father  to  bestow 
it  righteously  on  us  who  are  unworthy  of  it.  And  He,  Christ 
crucified  and  alive  again,  is  the  medium  of  its  communication. 
Again  and  again  He  claims,  and  it  is  claimed  for  Him,  that  He  is 
the  Author  of  life.  "  I  am  come,"  He  says,  "  that  they  might  have 
life,  and  that  they  might  have  it  more  abundantly " ;  "  He  that 
hath  the  Son  hath  life;  and  he  that  hath  not  the  Son  of  God 
hath  not  life";  "The  gift  of  God  is  eternal  life  through  Jesus 
Christ  our  Lord " ;  "  God  hath  given  to  us  eternal  life,  and  this 
life  is  in  his  Son."  The  Father  is  the  fountain,  but,  said  Christ, 
"  If  any  man  thirst,  let  him  come  unto  me  and  drink." 

^  Like  the  great  aqueducts  that  stretch  from  the  hills  across 
the  Eoman  Campagna,  His  Incarnation  brings  the  waters  of  the 
fountain  from  the  mountains  of  God  into  the  lower  levels  of  our 
nature,  and  the  fetid  alleys  of  our  sins.  The  cool,  sparkling 
treasure  is  carried  near  to  every  lip.  If  we  drink,  we  live.  If 
1  E.  F.  Scott,  The  Fourth  Gospel,  235. 


142 


LIFE  AND  LIGHT 


we  will  not,  we  die  in  our  sins,  and  are  dead  whilst  we  live.  Stop 
the  fountain,  and  what  becomes  of  the  stream  ?  It  fades  between 
its  banks,  and  is  no  more.  You  cannot  live  the  life  of  the  animal 
except  that  life  be  joined  to  Him.  If  it  could  be  broken  away 
from  God  it  would  disappear  as  the  clouds  melt  in  the  sky,  and 
there  would  be  nobody,  and  you  would  be  nowhere.  You  cannot 
break  yourself  away  from  God  physically  so  completely  as  to 
annihilate  yourself.  You  can  do  so  spiritually ;  some  do  it,  and 
the  consequence  is  that  they  are  dead !  You  can  be  made  alive 
from  the  dead,  if  you  will  lay  hold  on  Jesus  Christ,  and  get  His 
life-giving  spirit  into  your  heart.^ 

(1)  The  fountain  is  mysterious  in  its  origin.  This  is  perhaps 
the  thought  that  first  occurs  to  any  one  who  stands  by  the  rushing 
fountain  pouring  forth  its  stream  of  life ;  and  the  mystery  has 
led  the  uninstructed  nations  to  curious  conjectures  as  to  the 
origin  of  these  fountains. 

^  Some  years  ago  the  engineers  engaged  in  constructing  the 
water-works  of  the  city  of  Beyrout  set  themselves  to  the  task  of 
exploring  the  caverns  from  which  issues  the  permanent  supply  of 
the  Dog  Kiver.  After  great  labour  and  repeated  expeditions  they 
succeeded  in  penetrating  to  a  distance  of  three-quarters  of  a  mile 
into  the  heart  of  the  mountain ;  but  as  they  passed  onward  from 
lake  to  torrent,  now  under  lofty  dome,  and  again  through  narrow 
and  tortuous  channels,  the  water  was  undiminished  in  its  volume, 
and  finally  a  roaring  cataract  barred  their  progress  and  forbade 
them  to  search  farther  into  the  secret  of  the  living  stream. 

So  is  it  that  life,  after  all  our  inquiries  into  its  nature  and 
origin,  remains  hidden  from  us.  We  are  conscious  of  its  existence, 
we  can  see  its  effects,  but  in  itself  it  is  a  mystery,  even  as  the 
great  Giver  of  it,  the  Fountain  of  Life,  dwells  in  thick  darkness. 
We  can  only  say,  "  In  his  hand  is  the  breath  of  all  living."  In 
Him  we  "  live,  and  move,  and  have  our  being."  ^ 

(2)  The  fountain  is  free  and  full  in  its  flow.  The  people  of 
the  East  call  water  the  "  gift  of  God " ;  and  so  throughout 
Scripture  the  invitation  is  repeated  in  various  forms :  "  Ho, 
every  one  that  thirsteth,  come  ye  to  the  waters."  "  If  any  man 
thirst,  let  him  come  unto  me  and  drink."  For  "  the  gift  of  God 
is  eternal  life  through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord."  This  stream  of 
spiritual  life,  though  in  its  origin  far  above  the  level  of  human 

*  A.  Maclaren. 

^  J.  Robertson,  in  Sunday  Magazine,  1881,  p.  703, 


PSALM  XXXVI.  9 


143 


nature,  bursts  forth  in  our  nature,  and  at  a  level  within  reach  of 
the  poorest  and  the  vilest.  At  the  lowest  point  of  the  humiliation 
of  the  Son  of  God  it  was  manifested.  Though  springing  from  the 
bosom  of  the  eternal  hills  it  runs  in  the  valleys,  and  he  that 
would  have  life  must  first  know  the  power  of  death.  The  Eock 
of  Ages  cleft  for  us  is  the  point  at  which  we  receive  the  gift  of 
God,  and  we  receive  it  without  money  and  without  price. 

^  The  water  of  the  fountain  will  flow  of  its  own  necessity. 
It  is  in  its  very  nature  that  it  must  flow  if  only  we  do  not  wilfully 
hinder  it.    It  is  always  flowing  into  an  open  heart.^ 

(3)  The  fountain  of  life  brings  life  wherever  it  flows. 

^  One  of  the  most  striking  of  all  the  fountains  of  Syria  is  the 
fountain  of  Fijeh,  in  Anti-Lebanon,  which  furnishes  at  one  spring 
from  the  solid  rock  three-fourths  of  the  waters  of  the  river  Barada, 
the  ancient  Abana  of  Damascus.  The  traveller  pitches  his  tent 
under  the  walnut-trees  that  overhang  the  fountain ;  lulled  to 
sleep  by  it  at  night,  he  hears  it  at  every  waking  hour ;  and  when 
the  rising  sun  pierces  through  the  thick  foliage  its  rays  fall  upon 
the  sparkling  river,  rushing  on  with  undiminished  strength.  By 
night  and  by  day,  when  swollen  by  the  rains  of  winter,  and  after  all 
the  snow  on  the  highest  heights  has  disappeared,  for  six  long  months 
of  drought,  the  fountain  pours  forth  its  stream  of  life.  And  the 
nodding  oleanders  dip  their  flowered  heads  in  its  stream,  and  the 
poplars  and  walnut-trees  draw  their  deep  life  from  its  waters,  and 
orchards  and  gardens  flourish  along  its  iDanks,  and  it  scatters  life 
and  beauty  wherever  it  goes.  But  let  us  leave  for  a  little  the 
narrow  valley  in  which  it  holds  its  course,  and  as  we  bend  off  to 
the  left  and  its  sound  fades  away  on  the  ear,  let  us  observe  how 
vegetation  gets  scantier  and  poorer,  till,  within  sight  and  almost 
within  hearing  of  the  river,  we  stand  in  a  dry,  parched  wilderness. 
Proceeding  still  across  the  arid  waste  we  reach  the  summit  of  a 
hill  that  is  burnt  up  by  the  summer  sun,  and  we  have  before  us  a 
view  that  is  unparalleled  in  the  East,  perhaps  unequalled  in  the 
world.  A  plain  of  vast  extent  is  bounded  on  all  sides  by  barren 
deserts,  but  in  its  centre,  embedded  in  a  belt  of  living  green,  is  a 
city  of  a  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  souls,  for  the  river  is  there, 
and  whithersoever  the  river  comes  there  is  life.^ 

(4)  The  water  of  the  fountain  is  always  seeking  to  rise  to  the 
level  from  which  it  came.  This  makes  the  very  life  and  beauty 
of  the  fountain.    So  will  it  be  with  "  the  fountain  of  life."  It  will 

^  James  Vauglian. 

*  J.  Robertson,  in  Sunday  Magazine,  1881,  p.  704. 


144  LIFE  AND  LIGHT 

always  be  mounting  to  the  height,  the  heavenly  height  from 
which  it  sprang,  bearing  us  up  and  up  to  that  world  from  which 
it  came ;  and  though  it  never  reaches  it,  it  will  aspire  to  it ;  it  will 
always  be  nearing  it,  continually  approaching  the  heaven  of  its 
birth,  the  God  of  its  creation. 

^  It  is  difficult  to  be  always  true  to  ourselves,  to  be  always 
what  we  wish  to  be,  what  we  feel  we  ought  to  be.  As  long  as  we 
feel  that,  as  long  as  we  do  not  surrender  the  ideal  of  our  life,  all  is 
right.  Our  aspirations  represent  the  true  nature  of  our  soul  much 
more  than  our  everyday  life.^ 

Alas !  long-suffering  and  most  patient  God, 
Thou  needst  be  surelier  God  to  bear  with  us 
Than  even  to  have  made  us !    Thou  aspire,  aspire 
From  henceforth  for  me !    Thou  who  hast  Thyself 
Endured  this  fieshhood,  knowing  how  as  a  soaked 
And  sucking  vesture  it  can  drag  us  down 
And  choke  us  in  the  melancholy  Deep, 
Sustain  me,  that  with  Thee  I  walk  these  waves, 
Eesisting ! — breathe  me  upward.  Thou  in  me 
Aspiring,  who  art  the  way,  the  truth,  the  life, — 
That  no  truth  henceforth  seem  indifferent, 
No  way  to  truth  laborious,  and  no  life. 
Not  even  this  life  I  live,  intolerable !  ^ 

II. 

The  Source  of  Light. 

'*  In  thy  light  shall  we  see  light." 

God  is  "  the  Father  of  lights."  The  sun  and  all  the  stars  are 
only  lights  kindled  by  Him.  It  is  the  very  crown  of  revelation 
that  "  God  is  light,  and  in  him  is  no  darkness  at  all."  Light  seems 
to  the  unscientific  eye,  which  knows  nothing  about  undulations 
of  a  luminiferous  ether,  to  be  the  least  material  of  material  things. 
All  joyous  things  come  with  it.  It  brings  warmth  and  fruit, 
joyfulness  and  life.  Purity,  and  gladness,  and  knowledge  have 
been  symbolized  by  it  in  all  tongues.  The  Scripture  uses  light, 
and  the  sun,  which  is  its  source,  as  an  emblem  for  God  in  His 
holiness  and  blessedness  and  omniscience. 

^  Max  Miiller.  ^  E.  B.  Browning. 


PSALM  XXXVI.  9 


145 


The  Psalmist  saw  the  world  all  full  of  seekers  after  light ;  he 
was  a  seeker  after  light  himself.  What  he  had  discovered,  and 
what  he  wanted  to  tell  men,  was  that  the  first  step  in  a  hopeful 
search  after  light  must  be  for  a  man  to  put  himself  into  the 
element  of  light,  which  is  God.  The  first  thing  for  any  man  to 
do  who  wanted  knowledge  was  to  put  himself  under  God,  to  make 
himself  God's  man ;  because  both  he  who  wanted  to  know  and 
that  v/hich  he  wanted  to  know  had  God  for  their  true  element 
and  were  their  best  and  did  their  best  only  as  they  lived  in  Him. 

^  When  I  try  to  describe  to  myself  this  thought  of  David 
about  man's  seeing  all  light  in  the  light  of  God,  no  picture  like 
the  picture  of  a  true  and  docile  childhood  seems  to  me  to  express 
it.  A  child  in  his  father's  house  learns  everything  within  the 
intelligence  and  character  of  his  father,  who  has  provided  all  things 
there,  and  is  perpetually  throwing  light  upon  their  proper  use. 
Everything  has  its  own  qualities,  but  those  qualities  are  made 
distinct  and  vivid  to  the  child  by  their  relation  to  the  master  of 
the  house.  Not  purely  in  themselves,  but  in  his  father's  use  of 
them  and  in  their  relationship  to  him  does  the  child  come  to  know 
the  tools  of  the  workshop,  the  furniture  of  the  parlour,  and  all  the 
apparatus  of  domestic  life.  So,  I  believe,  it  is  with  the  child's 
knowledge  of  the  larger  house,  the  world-house,  of  which  God  is 
the  Father.! 

1.  Nothing  is  seen  in  its  own  light — not  even  a  visible  thing. 
A  landscape  is  not  seen  in  its  own  light ;  it  is  perceived  very  much 
in  the  light  of  yesterday.  How  little  of  what  you  see  is  mere 
perception !  Every  sight  of  nature  is  tinged  with  the  light  of 
memory.  The  poet  looks  from  the  bridge  at  midnight  upon  the 
rushing  waters  ;  but  what  he  sees  is  not  the  flowing  tide ;  it  is  a 
tide  of  memory  that  fills  his  eyes  with  tears.  You  listen  to  the 
babbling  of  the  brook ;  but  what  you  hear  is  not  the  babbling,  it 
is  the  utterance  of  a  dear  name.  You  visit  Eome,  you  visit 
Jerusalem,  you  visit  Greece ;  do  you  see  any  of  these  by  its  own 
light  ?  No ;  they  are  all  beheld  by  the  light  of  yesterday  ;  there 
is  their  glory,  there  lies  their  gold  !  Even  so,"  cries  the  Psalmist, 
"  it  is  with  this  world ;  if  you  want  to  see  it,  you  must  look  at  it 
by  the  light  of  another  world — God's  coming  world."  He  does 
not  mean  that  when  we  quit  the  scenes  of  earth  we  shall  have 
blight  light  in  heaven.  It  is  more  than  that.  It  is  for  the  scenes 
^  P.  Brooks,  Sermons  Preached  in  English  Churches,  104. 
PS.  XXV.-CXIX. — 10 


146      '  LIFE  AND  LIGHT 


of  earth  he  wants  the  heavenly  light.  He  says  you  cannot 
interpret  your  own  skies  without  it.  We  often  say  that  in  the 
light  of  eternity  earthly  objects  will  fade  from  our  sight.  But  the 
Psalmist  says  that,  until  we  get  the  light  of  eternity,  earthly 
objects  will  never  be  in  our  sight.  It  is  by  the  light  of  the 
Celestial  City — the  City  which  has  no  need  of  the  sun — that 
alone  we  can  tell  what  here  is  large  and  what  here  is  small. 

^  Jesus  knew  the  streets  of  Jerusalem  and  the  lanes  of 
Galilee  and  the  history  of  His  mysterious  Hebrew  people,  and  the 
hearts  of  the  lilies  and  the  souls  of  men ;  but  He  knew  them  all 
differently  from  the  way  in  which  the  Hebrew  scribes  and 
scholars  knew  them.  To  Him  they  were  all  full  of  light.  There 
is  no  other  description  of  His  knowledge  that  can  tell  its  special 
and  peculiar  character  like  that.  It  was  all  full  of  light.  And 
the  other  peculiarity  of  it  was  just  as  clear.  It  was  full  also  of 
God.  He  knew  everything  as  God's  child  in  God's  house.  The 
history  of  the  prophets  and  the  heart  of  the  lily  both  meant 
something  about  His  Father.  These  two  peculiarities  belonged 
together.  The  world  was  full  of  light  to  Him  because  it  was  full 
of  God.  It  was  God's  light  in  which  He  saw  the  deeper  light  in 
everything.^ 

2.  If  we  need  God's  light  to  appreciate  natural  beauty  and  to 
grasp  intellectual  truth,  much  more  do  we  need  it  to  apprehend 
spiritual  realities.  It  is  in  communion  with  Him  who  is  the 
Light  as  well  as  the  Life  of  men  that  we  see  a  whole  universe  of 
glories,  realities,  and  brightnesses.  Where  other  eyes  see  only 
darkness,  we  behold  "  the  King  in  his  beauty,  and  the  land  that  is 
very  far  off."  Where  other  men  see  only  cloudland  and  mists, 
our  vision  will  pierce  into  the  unseen,  and  there  behold  "the 
things  which  are,"  the  only  real  things,  of  which  all  that  the  eye 
of  sense  sees  are  the  fleeting  shadows,  seen  as  in  a  dream,  while 
these  are  the  true,  and  the  sight  of  them  is  sight  indeed.  They 
who  see  by  the  light  of  God,  and  see  light  therein,  have  a  vision 
which  is  more  than  imagination,  more  than  opinion,  more  than 
belief.  It  is  certitude.  Communication  with  God  does  not  bring 
with  it  superior  intellectual  perspicuity,  but  it  does  bring  a  per- 
ception and  an  experience  of  spiritual  realities  and  relations,  which, 
in  respect  of  clearness  and  certainty,  may  be  called  sight.  Many 
of  us  walk  in  darkness,  who,  if  we  were  but  in  communion  with 
^  P.  Brooks,  Sermons  Preached  in  English  Churches,  106, 


PSALM  XXXVI.  9 


147 


God,  would  see  the  lone  hillside  blazing  with  chariots  and  horses 
of  fire.  Many  of  us  grope  in  perplexity,  who,  if  we  were  but 
hiding  under  the  shadow  of  God's  wings,  would  see  the  truth  and 
walk  at  liberty  in  the  light  which  is  knowledge  and  purity  and 

joy. 

(1)  It  needs  a  God  to  make  God  known. — Light  has  this  pro- 
perty, that  it  is  at  once  the  vehicle  and  that  which  is  borne  by 
the  vehicle ;  it  is  the  revelation  and  its  channel,  and  this  twofold 
property  of  light  remains  the  same  whether  we  regard  it  as  the 
old  school  of  physicists  did — as  an  actual  emanation  of  particles ; 
or  as  the  new  school  do — as  only  an  undulation  or  vibration  of 
some  invisible  ether  itself  at  rest.  The  oft-quoted  line  of  the 
poet,  that  we  may  rise  from  nature  up  to  nature's  God,  then,  is 
either  a  truism  or  a  sophism;  a  truism  if  we  mean  only  that 
nature  reveals  something  of  God's  character  while  it  conceals  the 
rest ;  a  sophism,  if  we  mean  that  man,  by  the  unassisted  light  of 
his  natural  faculties,  is  able  to  discover  the  invisible  things  of 
God.  We  can  know  God  only  by  Himself.  The  light  must  be 
Divine  by  which  we  see  that  there  is  anything  whatever  Divine 
to  see  and  behold. 

^  When  Dante  has  reached  the  Ninth  of  the  Heavenly 
Spheres  he  catches  his  first  glimpse  of  the  Godhead,  the  Central 
Point  on  which  "  Heaven  and  all  Nature  hangs,"  surrounded  by 
nine  circles  of  fire,  which  he  is  told  are  the  nine  choirs  of  angelic 
beings.  But  though  he  can  see  them  in  their  operation,  his 
vision  is  too  imperfect  to  see  them  as  they  are.  He  must  drink 
of  the  Eiver  of  Light.  Then  he  beholds  the  Eose  of  the  Blessed, 
with  its  myriads  of  saints.  But  still  he  is  unable  to  see  God. 
The  Virgin  Mary  procures  this  grace  for  him,  and  gazing  on  the 
Central  Point  he  sees  three  circles,  like  rainbows,  and,  being 
illuminated  by  a  flash  of  Divine  Light,  he  comprehends  the 
mystery  of  the  Holy  Trinity  and  of  the  Incarnation. 

(2)  Only  in  God's  light  can  we  truly  see  ourselves, — We  wish 
really  to  know  ourselves,  our  own  real  being  and  position.  What 
are  we  ?  Where  do  we  stand  in  the  scale  of  God's  creation,  as 
God  sees  us  ?  We  are  so  many  things  wrapped  up  in  one ;  we 
are,  alas !  a  mass  of  contradictions — so  very  different  at  different 
times.  What  am  I  ?  What  am  I,  as  an  angel  sees  me  ?  As 
truth  sees  me?  As  God  sees  me?  What  am  I?  I  grow  so 
perplexed  when  I  go  down  into  the  dark  depths  of  my  own  soul. 


148 


LIFE  AND  LIGHT 


No  natural  light  can  clear  up  this.  There  must  be  a  light  from 
outside,  a  light  from  above.  "  In  thy  light,"  the  soul  will  have  to 
say  at  last  out  of  all  its  searchings — "in  thy  light  shall  I  see 
light."  Down  in  those  hidden  crevices  of  my  own  innermost, 
blackest  being,  Lord,  give  me  light  to  see  clearly  what  I  am. 

^  "  John  Leech,"  says  Dean  Hole,  "  had  an  original  and  effec- 
tive method  of  reprimanding  his  children.  If  their  faces  were 
distorted  by  anger,  by  a  rebellious  temper,  or  a  sullen  mood,  he 
took  out  his  sketch  book,  transferred  their  lineaments  with  a 
slight  exaggeration  to  paper,  and  showed  them,  to  their  shameful 
confusion,  how  ugly  naughtiness  was."  ^ 

3.  The  full  effulgence  of  the  Divine  Light  was  manifested  in 
Christ,  who  is  both  God  and  the  Eevealer  of  God.  He  is  the 
light  which  alone  is  uncreated  light,  "  bright  effluence  of  bright 
essence  increate  " — slanguage  which  Milton  strangely  enough  has 
applied  to  material  light,  but  which  is  inappropriate  unless 
applied  to  Him  who  is  the  true  Sun  of  Eighteousness.  As  for 
material  light,  however  subtle  and  ethereal,  it  is  not  Divine ;  the 
creature  is  not  to  be  confounded  with  the  Creator  in  this  way. 
The  language  of  the  Psalmist  is  more  careful  and  guarded :  Thou 
"  coverest  thyself  with  light  as  with  a  garment."  Light,  in  fact, 
is  like  a  garment,  or  veil,  or  fleecy  cloud,  across  the  moon's  disc, 
which  part  reveals  and  part  conceals.  So  it  is  of  all  the  material 
works  of  God,  and  hence  the  allegory  of  the  ancients  was  not  in- 
exact which  represented  nature  by  the  symbol  of  the  veiled  Isis. 
There  is  something  seen  through  the  veil,  but  more  remains  be- 
hind which  we  cannot  see  through.  The  same  symbol  was  seen 
in  the  sanctuary,  where  a  thick  curtain  hung  between  the  Holy 
Place  and  the  Most  Holy  of  All ;  that  curtain,  woven  within 
and  without  with  cherubim,  signifying  this,  that  what  was  seen 
was  the  multiform  appearance  of  creation,  of  which  the  cherubim 
were  the  symbol,  while  behind  was  that  which  no  man  hath  seen 
or  can  see — God  in  Himself. 

(1)  Christ  lights  up  the  unlighted  lustre  in  our  nature. — Con- 
version is  the  lighting  up  of  our  nature  with  the  spark  of  God's 
Holy  Spirit  out  of  heaven.  When  a  man  is  converted  he  does 
not  get  new  brains ;  he  does  not  get  new  senses  or  capacities ;  he 
is  still  surrounded  by  the  old  relationships,  and  he  still  moves  in 

1  E.  E.  Welsh,  God's  Gentlemen,  41. 


PSALM  XXXVI.  9  149 

the  selfsame  world.  But  men  have  been  heard  to  tell  the  story  of 
their  conversion,  and  they  have  said,  "  The  stars  seemed  new  to 
me,  and  even  the  sun  shone  differently."  And  we  have  known 
men  who  had  made  every  one  round  them  miserable  develop  into 
true  gentlemen  when  God  met  with  them.  Nor  can  any  one 
move  among  our  peasantry,  and  see  the  wisdom  and  weight  and 
power  of  certain  characters,  without  perceiving  how  much  it 
has  meant  for  them  that  they  have  known  the  living  and  true 
God.  What  has  happened  to  them  ?  Have  they  received  new 
faculties  ?  No,  it  is  not  that— the  lustre  was  always  there.  But 
the  light  of  all  light  has  entered  their  circuit  now,  and  the  spark 
that  IS  God's  has  kindled  the  spiritual  candle:  it  is  not  a  differ- 
ence of  added  lustre ;  it  is  just  that  the  lustre  has  been  lighted  up. 

wiT^^^  ?°?!^r''f,''^  conversion  played  so  large  a  part  in  Bishop 
Wilkmsons  life  that  it  demands  a  few  words,  because  it  is  so 
often  misunderstood.  Conversion,  in  its  perverted  sense,  is  often 
used  to  describe  a  sort  of  mental  crisis  in  which,  under  the 
influence  of  hysterical  excitement  and  rhetorical  intoxication  the 
spirit  IS  hypnotized  into  an  experience  so  abnormal  that  it 
otten  has  a  permanent  effect  on  character,  and  has  in  retrospect 
the  appearance  of  a  Divine  interposition.  That  was  not  what 
Wilkinson  meant  by  conversion.  He  believed,  indeed,  that  it 
often  came  suddenly  upon  the  soul,  but  that  it  was  only  a  natural 
step  in  a  chain  o  circumstance,  like  the  parting  of  the  avalanche 
rom  the  snowfield.  What  he  meant  by  it  was  a  realization  of 
truth  of  the  personal  relation  with  God,  so  vivid  and  indubitable 
that  the  soul  could  never  be  in  any  doubt  as  to  its  redemption 
and  Its  ultimate  destiny.  But  he  believed  that  this  might  be  a 
tranquil  and  reasoned  process,  though  in  the  case  of  sin-stained 
lives  he  was  inclined  to  feel  that  the  break  with  the  past  must 
otten  be  ot  the  nature  of  an  instantaneous  revulsion,  a  sudden  per- 
ception of  the  hideousness  of  sin,  and  a  dawning  of  the  light  of 

(2)  Christ  sheds  light  for  us  on  the  manifold  paths  of  duty —It 
is  wonderful  how,  when  a  man  lives  near  God,  he  comes  to  know 
what  he  ought  to  do.  That  great  Light,  which  is  Christ  is  like 
the  star  that  hung  over  the  Magi,  blazing  in  the  heavens,  and  vet 
stooping  to  the  lowly  task  of  guiding  three  wayfaring  men  along 
a  muddy  road  upon  earth.  So  the  highest  Light  of  God  comes 
down  to  be  a  Lantern  for  our  paths  and  a  Light  for  our  feet. 

^  A.  C.  Benson,  The  Leaves  of  the  Tree,  116. 


LIFE  AND  LIGHT 


Now  the  light  comes  just  as  we  are  ready  to  obey  the  will  of  the 
Most  High.  Abraham  had  to  leave  his  home  and  go  out,  not 
knowing  whither  he  went.  Moses  had  to  return  from  the  home 
he  had  in  Midian  to  the  country  where  they  had  sought  his  life. 
The  people  of  Israel  had  to  journey  into  the  great  and  terrible 
wilderness.  The  prophets  had  to  pass  through  stern  ordeals. 
The  apostles  must  leave  all  and  follow  Christ.  St.  Paul  must 
bow  his  neck  under  the  yoke  of  Him  whom  a  moment  before  he 
was  persecuting,  and  say,  "  Lord,  what  wilt  thou  have  me  to  do  ? " 
And  do  we  not  know  that  the  light  of  God  is  most  fully  in  our 
souls  when  by  Divine  grace  we  are  uprooting  self-indulgence  and 
self-will  ? 

^  To  St.  Francis  of  Assisi,  as  he  set  out  to  join  the  champion 
of  the  Church,  Walter  de  Brienne,  intoxicated  with  the  idea  that 
he  himself  was  destined  to  become  a  great  leader,  came  a  vision  at 
Spoleto.  "  Francis,"  called  the  voice  of  God,  "  who  can  make  thee 
the  better  knight,  the  Master  or  the  servant,  the  rich  man  or  the 
poor  ?  "  "  The  Master,"  said  Francis,  "  not  the  servant,  the  rich 
man,  not  the  poor."  Then  said  the  voice :  "  But  thou  leavest  the 
Master  for  the  servant  and  the  rich  man  for  the  poor."  And 
Francis  said :  "  What  dost  Thou  will  that  I  should  do,  O  my 
Lord  ? "  And  the  Lord  said  :  "  Turn  thee  back  to  thy  own  land, 
for  the  vision  that  thou  didst  see  meant  heavenly  and  not  earthly 
equipment,  and  it  shall  be  given  thee  by  God  and  not  by  man." 
Obedient  to  the  vision,  Francis  gave  up  all  thought  of  rejoining 
the  band  of  Assisan  soldiers,  and  rode  slowly  home  that  day, 
revolving  in  his  mind  this  grace  vouchsafed  of  direction  in  the 
path  of  the  Spirit.  It  must  have  been  from  this  time  that  he 
felt  it  was  to  no  mundane  glory  he  was  being  guided,  but  rather 
to  the  glory  which  vanquishes  the  world.  One  wonders  how  the 
struggle  shaped  itself,  how  keen  were  the  pangs  which  moved 
him,  as  one  fair  temporal  hope  after  another  took  on  the  like- 
ness of  a  phantasm  and  trembled  into  nothingness  at  the  potent 
presence  of  these  unwonted  and  unseen  realities.  One  wonders 
how  his  spirit  stirred  and  shook  as  their  amazing  intervention 
became  indubitable ;  how  the  unequal  contest  agonized  and 
astounded  him;  how,  step  by  step,  the  spiritual  gained  upon 
the  temporal,  whilst  his  shrinking  flesh  cried  aloud  in  the 
suffering  of  death.  Only  this  we  know:  he  obeyed,  and,  in 
obedience  to  the  Will,  he  found  the  Way,  the  way  of  the  Cross, 
Christ  Jesus,  from  which  he  never  swerved.^ 

^  A.  M.  Stoddart,  Francis  of  Assisi,  71. 


PSALM  XXXVI.  9 


Then  fiercely  we  dig  the  fountain : 

Oh  !  whence  do  the  waters  rise  ? 
Then  panting  we  climb  the  mountain : 

Oh !  are  there  indeed  blue  skies  ? 
We  dig  till  the  soul  is  weary, 

Nor  find  the  water-nest  out; 
We  climb  to  the  stone-crest  dreary, 

And  still  the  sky  is  a  doubt  ! 

Let  alone  the  roots  of  the  fountain; 

Drink  of  the  water  bright ; 
Leave  the  sky  at  rest  on  the  mountain, 

Walk  in  its  torrent  of  light ; 
Although  thou  seest  no  beauty, 

Though  widowed  thy  heart  yet  cries. 
With  thy  hands  go  and  do  thy  duty, 

And  thy  work  will  clear  thine  eyes.^ 
George  MacDonald,  A  Book  of  Dreams  {Poetical  Works,  i.  394). 


Delighting  in  the  Lord. 


IS3 


Literature. 


Conn  (J.),  Hie  Fulness  of  Tiine^  117. 

Cox  (S.),  The  Bird's  Nest,  238. 

Houchin  (J.  W.),  The  Vision  of  God,  31. 

Mackey  (H.  0.),  Miniature  Sermons,  1. 

Maclaren  (A.),  Sermons  Preached  in  Manchester,  ii.  245. 

Eeynolds  (H.  K.),  Notes  of  the  Christian  Life,  111. 

Voysey  (C),  Sermons,  viii.  (1885),  No.  32. 

Christian  World  Pulpit,  xxvii.  93  (H.  W.  Beecher). 

Church  of  England  Magazine,  xxxi.  139  (J.  Ayre). 


'54 


Delighting  in  the  Lord. 


Delight  thyself  also  in  the  Lord ; 

And  he  shall  give  thee  the  desires  of  thine  heart.— Ps.  xxxvii.  4. 

1.  The  anthem,  "  0  rest  in  the  Lord,"  taken  from  Mendelssohn's 
oratorio  "Elijah,"  is  composed  of  words  which  many  persons 
imagine  to  be  a  text  accurately  quoted  from  the  Bible.  This  is, 
however,  nowhere  to  be  found  as  Mendelssohn  quotes  it,  but  is  a 
compilation  of  two  separate  verses.  Scarcely  any  music  could  be 
sweeter  to  an  anxious  and  weary  heart  than  this  pathetic  song, "  0 
rest  in  the  Lord,  wait  patiently  for  Him,  and  He  will  give  thee 
thy  heart's  desire."  It  seems  cruel  to  say  a  word  to  detract  from 
the  gracious  comfort  and  hope  conveyed  by  the  words.  Yet  we 
shall  be  gainers  and  not  losers  by  greater  accuracy  and  truth,  and 
shall  find  the  promise  "He  will  give  thee  thy  heart's  desire" 
none  the  less  fulfilled.  Mendelssohn's  made-up  text  is  amply  true, 
was  true  for  him  in  fact  as  it  has  been  true  to  so  many  of  us  in 
our  varied  lives  and  in  the  fulfilment  of  our  heart's  desires.  Yet 
there  is  a  higher  truth  still,  and  to  that  the  Psalmist  gives 
expression  here.  "  Delight  thyself  also  in  the  Lord ;  and  he  shall 
give  thee  the  desires  of  thine  heart." 

2.  The  text  might  be  correctly  paraphrased,  "  Delight  in  the 
Lord,  and  then  thou  mayest  trust  thy  desires ;  they  will  be  the 
forerunners  of  blessings,  the  beginning  of  their  own  realization." 
"  Blessed  are  they  that  hunger  and  thirst  after  righteousness,  for 
they  shall  be  filled."  Delight  thyself  in  the  Lord,  and  thou  wilt 
desire  strongly  only  what  is  in  harmony  with  His  will,  and  best 
for  thyself.  All  thy  wishes  will  be  brought  into  subjection  to  His 
will,  and  thou  wilt  crave  only  those  things  which  He  is  ready  and 
anxious  to  bestow  upon  thee. 

There  are  many  beautiful  psalms  in  the  Psalter,  but  I  am 
disposed  to  think  that  this  psalm  is  the  most  beautiful  of  them  all. 
There  is  a  strain  of  old  experience  in  it,  of  ripe  and  mellow 

155 


156        DELIGHTING  IN  THE  LORD 


wisdom,  of  thoughtful  and  tranquil  affection,  which  at  once  stirs 
and  calms  our  hearts.  I  can  never  read  it  but  it  calls  up  before 
me  the  figure  of  a  venerable  and  kindly  old  man,  who  has  seen 
much  and  endured  much,  but  has  at  last  won  for  himself  a  sacred 
tranquillity  and  peace  which  no  change  and  no  alarm  can  disturb ; 
who,  now  that  he  is  old,  does  not  forget  either  that  he  has  been 
young  or  what  his  hot,  eager  youth  was  like ;  and  who,  in  the  calm 
evening  of  his  days,  draws  upon  the  accumulated  stores  of  his 
knowledge  and  experience  for  the  benefit  of  those  in  whom  the 
fires  of  youth  still  burn  hotly,  and  tries  to  save  them  from  many 
a  conflict,  and  many  a  defeat,  by  teaching  them  the  secret  of 
peace.^ 

^  There  is  a  passage  in  Wordsworth's  Prelude  which  expresses 
both  the  craving  and  its  satisfaction,  with  all  the  poet's  high  serious- 
ness and  moving  simplicity.  He  had  risen,  in  his  unrest  of  mind, 
before  the  dawn.  In  the  grey  light  of  the  morning,  he  brooded 
over  his  life  and  its  meaning.  As  the  sun  rose  and  flooded  meadow 
and  stream  and  the  far-off  shining  sea  with  light,  and  as  the  birds 
awoke  to  song  and  the  labourer  came  forth  with  quiet  and  honest 
content  to  his  work  in  the  field,  all  the  stillness  and  charm  of  the 
scene  fell  upon  him  with  refreshing  and  renewing  power. 

Ah !  need  I  say,  dear  Friend !  that  to  the  brim 
My  heart  was  full;  I  made  no  vows,  but  vows 
Were  then  made  for  me ;  bond  unknown  to  me 
Was  given,  that  I  should  be,  else  sinning  greatly 
A  dedicated  Spirit.    On  I  walked 
In  thankful  blessedness,  which  yet  survives.^ 


I. 

Practising  the  Presence  of  God. 

1.  Delighting  in  God  means,  to  begin  with,  realizing  the 
presence  of  God.  If  men  will  not  sometimes  think  of  God,  He 
will  become  merely  a  name  to  them.  If  they  glance  toward 
Him  only  now  and  again,  and  with  an  unobservant  and  undesiring 
eye,  He  will  become  strange  and  shadowy,  and  will  remain  un- 
known. We  do  not  become  sure  of  God  by 'mustering  up  the 
arguments  for  His  being  and  His  purpose  in  the  world.  No 

1  S.  Cox,  The  Bird's  Nest,  238. 

2  W.  M.  Clow,  The  Secret  of  the  Lord,  219. 


PSALM  xxxvii.  4 


157 


heart  ever  stood  up  in  a  passionate  conviction  of  God's  presence 
because  it  had  been  told  that  His  footprints  were  marked  upon 
the  rocks.  No  mind  was  ever  driven  by  the  logic  of  history  to 
assent  with  a  deep  persuasion  to  the  personal  providence  of  the 
Almighty.  These  things  have  their  place  and  their  power.  They 
are  byways  of  evidence  in  which  a  believing  heart  will  sometimes 
walk.  But  the  only  certainty  which  can  satisfy  the  mind  and 
stir  the  heart  is  an  ethical  and  a  religious,  a  moral  and  a  spiritual 
consciousness  of  God.  Faith  is  an  opening  of  the  eyes  that  we 
may  see.  It  is  in  prayer  that  we  rise  most  swiftly  and  most 
convincingly  into  this  faith  which  sees.  It  is  in  prayer  that  we 
have  the  sure  consciousness  of  God.  Even  although  a  man  may 
kneel  with  a  haze  over  his  mind  and  a  chill  upon  his  spirit,  he 
will  not  kneel  in  vain. 

^  In  the  beginning  of  Brother  Lawrence's  noviciate,  he  spent 
the  hours  appointed  for  private  prayer  in  thinking  of  God,  so  as 
to  convince  his  mind  of,  and  to  impress  deeply  upon  his  heart, 
the  Divine  existence,  rather  by  devout  sentiments  than  by 
studied  reasonings  and  elaborate  meditations.  By  this  short  and 
sure  method,  he  exercised  himself  in  the  knowledge  and  love 
of  God,  resolving  to  use  his  utmost  endeavour  to  live  in  a  con- 
tinual sense  of  His  Presence,  and,  if  possible,  never  to  forget 
Him  more.  When  he  had  thus  in  prayer  filled  his  mind  full 
with  great  sentiments  of  that  Infinite  Being,  he  went  to  his  work 
appointed  in  the  kitchen  (for  he  was  cook  to  the  Society).  When 
he  began  his  business,  he  said  to  God,  with  a  filial  trust  in  Him : 
"  0  my  God,  since  Thou  art  with  me,  and  I  must  now,  in  obedience 
to  Thy  commands,  apply  my  mind  to  these  outward  things,  I 
beseech  Thee  to  grant  me  grace  to  continue  in  Thy  presence ;  and 
to  this  end,  do  Thou  prosper  me  with  Thy  assistance,  receive  all 
my  works,  and  possess  all  my  affections."  .  .  .  When  he  had 
finished,  he  examined  himself  how  he  had  discharged  his  duty  : 
if  he  found  well,  he  returned  thanks  to  God;  if  otherwise,  he 
asked  pardon ;  and,  without  being  discouraged,  he  set  his  mind 
right  again  and  continued  his  exercise  of  the  Presence  of  God,  as 
if  he  had  never  deviated  from  it.  "  Thus,"  said  he,  "  by  rising 
after  my  falls,  and  by  frequently  renewed  acts  of  faith,  and  love, 
I  am  come  to  a  state,  wherein  it  would  be  as  difficult  for  me  not 
to  think  of  God  as  it  was  at  first  to  accustom  myself  to  it." 

As  Brother  Lawrence  had  found  such  comfort  and  blessing  in 
walking  in  the  Presence  of  God,  it  was  natural  for  him  to  recom- 
mend it  earnestly  to  others ;  but  his  example  was  a  stronger 


158        DELIGHTING  IN  THE  LORD 


inducement  than  any  arguments  he  could  propose.  His  very 
countenance  was  edifying;  such  a  sweet  and  calm  devotion 
appearing  in  it  as  could  not  but  affect  all  beholders.  And  it  was 
observed  that  in  the  greatest  hurry  of  business  in  the  kitchen,  he 
still  preserved  his  recollection  and  his  heavenly-mindedness.  He 
was  never  hasty  nor  loitering,  but  did  each  thing  in  its  season, 
with  an  even,  uninterrupted  composure  and  tranquillity  of  spirit. 
"  The  time  of  business,"  said  he,  "  does  not  with  me  differ  from 
the  time  of  prayer,  and  in  the  noise  and  clatter  of  my  kitchen, 
while  several  persons  are  at  the  same  time  calling  for  different 
things,  I  possess  God  in  as  great  tranquillity  as  if  I  were  upon 
my  knees  at  the  Blessed  Sacrament."  ^ 

2.  Delighting  in  the  Lord  implies  sympathy  with  His  mind 
and  character.  It  means  that  His  pure  and  holy  character  is  the 
absorbing  object  of  thought,  that  in  the  contemplation  of  it  the 
mind  is  free  from  all  suspicions,  all  hard  thoughts  and  rebellious 
feelings ;  that,  while  it  dwells  on  this  high  theme  with  reverence 
and  with  awe,  it  also  finds  in  it  a  source  of  deepest  joy. 

Five  years  before  he  left  us,  one  who  has  since  his  death 
been  much  in  men's  minds  had  an  illness  which  was  of  a  very 
critical  character.  For  some  days  he  said  nothing,  and  he  was 
supposed  to  be  quite  unconscious.  After  his  recovery  he  referred, 
one  day,  to  this,  the  presumably  unconscious,  part  of  his  illness. 
"  People  thought,"  he  said,  "  that  I  was  unconscious,  but  the  fact 
was  that  although  I  could  not  speak  I  heard  all  that  went  on  in 
the  room,  and  I  was  well  occupied."  To  the  question,  "What 
were  you  doing  ? "  he  answered,  "  By  God's  mercy,  I  could  re- 
member the  Epistle  for  the  fourth  Sunday  in  Advent,  out  of  the 
Philippians,  which  begins,  'Eejoice  in  the  Lord  alway.'  This  I 
made  a  framework  for  prayer ;  saying  the  Lord's  Prayer  two  or 
three  times  between  each  clause,  and  so  dwelling  on  the  several 
relations  of  each  clause  to  each  petition  in  the  Lord's  Prayer." 
How  he  did  this  he  explained  at  some  length,  and  then  added, 
"  It  lasted  me,  I  should  think,  four  or  five  hours."  To  the  question, 
"What  did  you  do  after  that?"  he  answered,  "  I  began  it  over 
again.  I  was  very  happy :  and,  had  it  been  God's  will,  did  not 
wish  to  get  better."  ^ 

3.  Delighting  in  God  means  holding  close  communion  with 
Him.    Communion  is  that  quiet,  intimate,  tender  intercourse  with 

^  Brother  Lawrence,  The  Practice  of  tJie  Presence  of  Ood. 
^  H.  P.  Liddon,  Passiontide  Sermons,  271. 


PSALM  XXXVII.  4 


159 


God  in  which  we  may  ask  nothing,  confess  nothing,  and  cease 
even  from  thanksgiving.  We  simply  speak  face  to  face  with  God 
as  a  man  speaks  to  his  friend.  Communion  may  pass  beyond 
speech  into  a  calm  and  absorbing  and  yet  strangely  wakeful 
silence.  God  is  not  content  always  with  silence  only.  He  loves, 
we  may  truly  believe,  to  hear  the  human  voice  rising  and  falling 
in  the  accents  of  prayer.  Samuel's  childish  treble  when  he  cried, 
"  Speak,  Lord ;  for  thy  servant  heareth,"  was  sweeter  to  Him 
than  the  perfect  music  of  a  boy's  clear  young  voice  in  a  choir  to 
its  leader.  God  misses  "  His  little  human  praise,"  with  its  doubt 
and  fear  trembling  in  every  tone,  when  we  pray  only  with  the 
inner  whisper  of  our  thought  and  meditation.  But  there  are 
times  when  the  spirit  of  prayer  may  be  too  swift  and  too  tender 
for  words.  Every  man  is  a  possible  mystic  in  the  best  sense  of 
that  word,  for  every  man  may  enter  into  that  intercourse  with 
God  in  which  the  hours  pass  by  in  the  silence  of  a  perfect  con- 
fidence. 

^  Wesley,  in  his  Journal  tells  us  again  and  again  that  when 
worn  and  ill  he  cast  himself  without  words  on  the  bosom  of  God. 
Chalmers  declares  that,  when  greatly  wearied  and  distressed  in 
mind,  he  gave  himself  up  to  quietism,  and  was  much  refreshed. 
These  were  both  men  of  strong  practical  wisdom,  and  not  moody 
and  dreamy  recluses.  We  must  not  think  that  when  Christ  con- 
tinued "  all  night  in  prayer  to  God  "  He  stretched  out  the  arms  of 
His  petitions  and  thanksgiving  in  words  which  fell  upon  His  own 
ear.  We  can  be  sure  that  His  time  was  passed  in  still  meditation. 
He  rose  into  a  rapture  in  which  there  was  no  speech,  a  silence 
that  was  felt  and  loved  of  God.    To  Him  the  Father  was 

A  presence  felt  the  livelong  day, 
A  welcome  fear  at  night.^ 

^  I  see  that  every  good  and  wise  man  who  is  held  up  to  my 
admiration  and  imitation  in  the  Bible  desired  nothing  less,  and 
could  be  satisfied  by  nothing  less,  than  communion  with  God. 
Every  word  in  the  Book  of  Psalms,  in  the  Gospels,  in  the  Epistles, 
and  in  the  Prophecies  tells  me  this.  They  wished  to  know  God, 
not  in  a  vague,  loose  sense,  but  actually  to  know  Him  as  a 
friend.  Starting  with  no  preparatory  notions  of  God,  but  ready 
to  receive  everything  He  told  them,  they  welcomed  each  new 
dispensation  only  because  it  told  them  something  more  of  God ; 

1  W.  M.  Clow,  The  Secret  qf  the  Lord,  181. 


i6o        DELIGHTING  IN  THE  LORD 


because  it  enabled  them  more  intelligently,  more  practically,  more 
literally  to  converse  with  Him.  I  observe  that  all  their  sorrow 
arose  from  the  loss  of  God's  presence,  all  their  joy  from  the 
possession  of  it,  all  their  pleasure  in  expecting  heaven  from 
anticipation  of  it.  I  observe  that  they  shrunk  from  the  contempla- 
tion of  no  side  or  phase  of  God's  character,  that  His  holiness  and 
His  mercy  were  equally  dear  to  them,  and  that,  so  far  from 
viewing  them  as  separate,  they  could  not  admire  one  without  the 
other.  They  could  not  delight  in  His  love  unless  they  believed 
that  He  would  admit  no  sin  into  His  presence,  for  sin  and  love 
are  essentially  hostile ;  they  could  not  adore  His  holiness  unless 
they  believed  that  He  had  some  way  of  removing  their  sinfulness 
and  imparting  His  own  character  to  them.  The  plain,  obvious 
study  of  the  Bible  tells  me  this.^ 

4.  Lastly,  delighting  in  God  means  entire  surrender  to  God's 
will.  The  highest  attitude  in  prayer  is  not  desire,  or  aspiration, 
or  praise.  It  is  surrender.  In  surrender  we  open  our  whole 
being  to  God  as  a  flower  opens  itself  to  the  sun,  and  we  are  filled, 
up  to  our  measure,  with  His  Divine  energy.  It  is  because  man 
can  be  filled  with  the  fulness  of  God  that  he  has  been  chosen  of 
God  as  His  instrument  in  the  world.  In  one  true  sense  God  set 
bounds  to  His  power  when  He  created  man.  He  placed  a  further 
limit  on  Himself  when  He  committed  dominion  to  him.  God 
now  works  through  man,  and  if  man  will  not  work  the  works  of 
God,  the  works  of  God  remain  undone. 

^  Esther. — But  that  must  be  the  best  life,  father.  That  must 
be  the  best  life. 

Rufus. — What  life,  my  dear  child  ? 

Esther. — Why,  that  where  one  bears  and  does  everything 
because  of  some  great  and  strong  feeling — so  that  this  and  that 
in  one's  circumstances  don't  signify. 

Rufus. — Yea,  verily:  but  the  feeling  that  should  be  thus 
supreme  is  devotedness  to  the  Divine  Will.^ 

^  It  is  best  to  limit  oneself  to  what  is  strictly  necessary,  to  live 
austerely  and  by  rule,  to  content  oneself  with  a  little,  and  to 
attach  no  value  to  anything  but  peace  of  conscience  and  a  sense 
of  duty  done.  It  is  true  that  this  itself  is  no  small  ambition,  and 
that  it  only  lands  us  in  another  impossibility.  No, — the  simplest 
course  is  to  submit  oneself  wholly  and  altogether  to  God.  Every- 

^  Life  of  Frederick  Denison  Maurice^  i.  132. 
2  George  Eliot,  Felix  Holt, 


PSALM  XXXVII.  4 


i6i 


thing  else,  as  saith  the  Preacher,  is  but  vanity  and  vexation  of 
spirit.  It  is  a  long  while  now  since  this  has  been  plain  to  me, 
and  since  this  religious  renunciation  has  been  sweet  and  familiar 
bo  me.  It  is  the  outward  distractions  of  life,  the  examples  of  the 
world,  and  the  irresistible  influence  exerted  upon  us  by  the  current 
of  things  which  make  us  forget  the  wisdom  we  have  acquired  and 
the  principles  we  have  adopted.  That  is  why  life  is  such 
weariness !  This  eternal  beginning  over  again  is  tedious,  even  to 
repulsion.  It  would  be  so  good  to  go  to  sleep  when  we  have 
gathered  the  fruit  of  experience,  when  we  are  no  longer  in 
opposition  to  the  supreme  will,  when  we  have  broken  loose  from 
self,  when  we  are  at  peace  with  all  men.^ 

Blindfolded  and  alone  I  stand, 
With  unknown  thresholds  on  each  hand; 
The  darkness  deepens  as  I  grope, 
Afraid  to  fear,  afraid  to  hope, 
Yet  this  one  thing  I  learn  to  know 
Each  day  more  surely  as  I  go. 
That  doors  are  opened,  ways  are  made, 
Burdens  are  lifted  or  are  laid. 
By  some  great  law  unseen  and  still, 
Unfathomed  purpose  to  fulfil, 
"  Not  as  I  will." 

Blindfolded  and  alone  I  wait; 
Loss  seems  too  bitter,  gain  too  late; 
Too  heavy  burdens  in  the  load 
And  too  few  helpers  on  the  road; 
And  joy  is  weak  and  grief  is  strong, 
And  years  and  days  so  long,  so  long: 
Yet  this  one  thing  I  learn  to  know 
Each  day  more  surely  as  I  go, 
That  I  am  glad  the  good  and  ill 
By  changeless  law  are  ordered  still, 
"Not  as  I  will." 

"  Not  as  I  will " :  the  sound  grows  sweet 

Each  time  my  lips  the  words  repeat. 

"  Not  as  I  will " :  the  darkness  feels 

More  safe  than  light  when  this  thought  steals 

Like  whispered  voice  to  calm  and  bless 

All  unrest  and  all  loneliness. 

^  AmieVs  Journal  (trans,  by  Mrs.  Humphry  Ward),  115. 
PS.  XXV.-CXIX. — II 


i62        DELIGHTING  IN  THE  LORD 


"Not  as  I  will,"  because  the  One 
Who  loved  us  first  and  best  has  gone 
Before  us  on  the  road,  and  still 
For  us  must  all  His  love  fulfil, 
"Not  as  we  will."i 

II. 

The  Satisfaction  of  Desire. 

1.  Nothing  more  disastrous  could  happen  than  that  God 
should  gratify  the  desires  of  all  men.  If  God  were  to  permit  for 
one  short  hour  that  all  human  desires  should  be  satisfied,  it  is 
impossible  to  calculate  the  dire  confusion  and  pitiless  despair  that 
would  prevail.  Ignorance  would  unsettle  every  natural  law; 
selfishness  would  break  down  every  barrier ;  oppression,  lust,  and 
rapine  would  leap  forth  with  fury.  It  is  true  that  prisons, 
hospitals,  and  workhouses  might  disgorge  their  occupants,  poverty 
might  leap  into  affluence,  and  diseases  and  devils  be  cast  out  of 
Buffering  humanity.  The  slave  might  snap  his  fetters,  and  many  an 
oppressed  sufferer  might  rush  forth  to  freedom  and  to  life ;  but  amid 
the  widespread  despair  excited  by  the  greatest  curse  that  had  ever 
fallen  on  humanity,  the  prayer  would  ascend,  "  0  God,  take  back 
our  liberty ;  bind  us  once  more  by  Thy  laws ;  Thou,  and  Thou  alone, 
knowest  what  is  best  for  us.  Fence  us  round  with  Thine  ordin- 
ances; restore  to  us  Thy  government;  let  us  know  once  more  that 
Thou  alone  canst  speak,  and  it  shall  be  done ;  Thou  alone  com- 
mand so  that  it  shall  stand  fast ! " 

^  The  fables,  the  philosophy,  and  the  experience  of  all  nations, 
are  crowded  with  lessons  that  men  are  blind,  and  ignorant,  and  selfish, 
and  know  not  what  is  best  for  them  ;  that  they  cannot  enumerate 
their  mercies ;  that  the  overruling  of  an  infinite  Mind  and  Will 
is  the  only  refuge  for  their  ignorance,  the  only  hope  of  the  race. 
He  must  be  a  bold  man,  or  a  fool,  who  would  dare  to  take  his  lot 
into  his  own  government,  and  be  the  master  of  his  own  destiny. 
The  same  principle  will  apply  equally  well,  if  we  suppose  our 
merely  human  desires  to  be  made  the  measure  of  God's  benedic-  j 
tions  to  us — of  the  spiritual  blessings  which  are  of  the  greatest  I 
necessity  for  us.  Some  are  longing  for  more  power  to  work,  when 
probably  God  sees  that  they  want  more  patience  to  endure,  more 

^  Helen  H,  Jackson,  Verses, 


PSALM  XXXVII.  4 


163 


power  to  feel.  Some  are  ever  yearning  after  new  truth,  when 
God  sees  that  their  need  is  to  understand  more  fully  the  truth 
already  within  their  reach.^ 

I  2.  When  we  delight  in  God,  we  are  freed  from  the  distraction 
of  various  desires  by  the  one  master  attraction.  Such  a  soul  is 
still  as  the  great  river  above  the  falls,  when  all  the  side  currents 
and  dimpling  eddies  and  backwaters  are  effaced  by  the  attraction 
that  draws  every  drop  in  the  one  direction;  or  like  the  same 
stream  as  it  nears  its  end,  and,  forgetting  how  it  brawled  among 
rocks  and  flowers  in  the  mountain  glens,  flows  "  with  a  calm  and 
equable  motion  "  to  its  rest  in  the  central  sea.  When  we  possess 
God,  all  other  desires  are  put  in  their  right  place.  The  presence 
of  the  king  awes  the  crowd  into  silence.  When  the  full  moon  is 
in  the  nightly  sky,  it  makes  the  heavens  bare  of  flying  cloud-rack, 
and  all  the  twinkling  stars  are  lost  in  the  peaceful,  solitary 
splendour.  So  let  delight  in  God  rise  in  our  souls,  and  lesser 
lights  pale  before  it — do  not  cease  to  be,  but  add  their  feebleness, 
unnoticed,  to  its  radiance.  The  more  we  have  our  affections  set 
on  God,  the  more  shall  we  enjoy,  because  we  subordinate.  His 
gifts.  The  less,  too,  shall  we  dread  their  loss,  the  less  be  at  the 
mercy  of  their  fluctuations.  The  capitalist  does  not  think  so 
much  of  the  year's  gains  as  the  needy  adventurer,  to  whom  they 
make  the  difference  between  bankruptcy  and  competence.  If  we 
have  God  for  our  "  enduring  substance,"  we  can  face  all  varieties 
of  condition,  and  be  calm,  saying : 

Give  what  Thou  wilt,  without  Thee  I  am  poor, 
And  with  Thee  rich,  take  what  Thou  wilt  away. 

^  Some  men  make  themselves  God,  without  knowing  what 
I  they  are  doing.  The  deity  they  appeal  to  is  really  their  deeper, 
higher  self.  When  they  feel  God's  approval,  it  is  really  their  own 
self-praise.  When  God  reproaches  them,  it  is  their  own  self- 
rebuke.  When  they  go  apart  from  the  world  to  hold  communion 
with  Him,  it  really  is  an  entrance  into  their  own  self-conscious- 
ness. To  other  men  some  good  fellow-man,  more  or  less  con- 
sciously and  completely  enlarged  into  an  ideal  of  humanity, 
answers  the  same  purpose,  and  is  in  reality  their  God.  To  still 
others,  a  vague  presence  of  a  high  purpose  and  tendency  felt  in 
everything — Tennyson's  "one  increasing  purpose,"  and  Arnold's 
^  H,  R.  Reynolds,  Notes  of  the  Christian  Life^  115. 


i64        DELIGHTING  IN  THE  LORD 


"  something  not  ourselves  which  makes  for  righteousness."  This 
fulfils  the  end  and  makes  the  substitute  for  God.  But  none  of 
these  supply  the  place  of  a  true  Personality  outside  ourselves, 
yet  infinitely  near  to  us.^ 

3.  To  delight  in  God  is  to  have  a  desire  for  spiritual  good ; 
and  the  desire  for  spiritual  good  never  goes  unsatisfied.  No  man 
ever  prayed  but  in  the  moment  he  was  a  better  and  a  wiser  man. 
To  go  into  the  sanctuary  of  God  is  to  understand.  To  let  our 
requests  be  made  known  unto  God  is  to  gain  the  peace  that 
passeth  all  understanding.  As  we  pray,  our  sins  are  set  in  the 
light  of  God's  countenance.  We  see  the  beauty  of  holiness.  We 
behold  the  beauty  of  the  Lord.  We  open  the  sluice-gates  of  the 
soul,  and  the  swelling  tides  of  God's  love  and  grace  flood  within. 
New  penitence,  new  resolves,  new  endeavours  are  born  in  the 
depth  of  the  will.  That  truth  is  written  large  in  the  history  of 
every  saint.  Prayer  is  a  mode  of  power  within  to  learn  the  mind 
of  Christ.  His  words  and  deeds  become  memorable  and  signifi- 
cant to  us.  We  sometimes  receive  a  more  vivid  insight  into  what 
He  was,  and  did,  as  we  serve  Him  in  the  toilsome  duties  of  life. 
But  when  we  pray,  then  those  spiritual  changes  which  are  vital, 
determining,  eternal,  take  place  within.  F.  W.  H.  Myers,  in  his 
poem  on  St.  Paul,  so  full  of  the  seer's  insight  into  the  history  of 
the  soul,  has  set  this  truth  in  impassioned  verse.  He  is  speaking 
of  Paul's  shame  at  his  failure,  and  he  conceives  him  in  the  pain 
of  his  penitence,  seeking  the  presence  and  the  peace  of  Christ. 

Straight  to  Thy  presence  get  me  and  reveal  it, 
Nothing  ashamed  of  tears  upon  Thy  feet, 

Show  the  sore  wound  and  beg  Thine  hand  to  heal  it, 
Pour  Thee  the  bitter,  pray  Thee  for  the  sweet. 

Then  with  a  ripple  and  a  radiance  thro'  me, 

Eise  and  be  manifest,  0  Morning  Star ! 
Flow  on  my  soul,  Thou  Spirit,  and  renew  me, 

Fill  with  Thyself,  and  let  the  rest  be  far. 

4.  When  we  delight  in  the  Lord,  our  desire  is  not  so  much 
to  have  as  to  be  and  do.  We  cease  to  crave  exclusively  for 
temporal  good,  for  personal  and  physical  gratification,  for  the 

^  Fhillips  Brooks :  Memories  of  his  Life,  457. 


PSALM  xxxvn.  4  155 

supply  of  what  we  call  our  wants,  and  we  crave,  instead,  to  be 
what  our  Creator  and  Father  wishes  us  to  be,  and  to  do  what 
He  wishes  us  to  do.  Delighting  in  the  Lord  does  not  mean 
I  ceasing  to  be  human,  ceasing  to  have  wants  and  natural  lawful 
desires  for  success  and  happiness;  it  means  that  all  these 
native  and  lawful  wishes  become  subordinate  to  a  higher  desire 
still,  so  that,  for  its  sake,  we  are  willing  to  forgo  all  the  rest. 
We  may  be  hungry  and  thirsty,  yet  our  meat  and  drink  will  be 
to  do  the  will  of  Him  who  sent  us  here  and  to  finish  His  work. 
We  may  be  poor  and  needy,  but  we  shall  esteem  the  words  of 
God  and  obedience  to  His  law  "  better  than  thousands  of  gold  and 
silver,"  or,  in  other  words  of  the  Psalmist,  "more  than  our 
necessary  food."  We  may  be  hungering  for  a  love  which  is  out  of 
our  reach,  or  sorrowing  for  the  loss  of  a  love  that  can  never  return, 
and  yet  find  in  God  a  love  passing  the  love  of  woman.  We  may 
be  toiling  all  day,  and  our  very  sleep  may  be  broken  by  festering 
care,  by  even  a  holy  anxiety  to  bring  our  work  to  completion,  and 
yet  we  shall  find  something  better  and  higher  than  success  in  the 
knowledge  that  we  are  working  for  God  and  doing  our  best  and 
80  earning  His  approval.  If  the  greatest  and  supreme  of  all  our 
delights  is  in  being  and  in  doing  what  God  wills,  nothing  can 
frustrate  His  purpose  to  give  us  our  heart's  desire. 

Tf  Christianity  seeks  not  to  cramp  man's  nature,  saying  to  him 
constantly,  "Thou  shalt  not";  but  it  leads  on,  up  to  freer  air  and 
wider  space,  wherein  the  soul  may  disport  itself.  It  is  God  we 
follow.  Obeymg  God  is  freedom.  Our  souls  are  like  closed 
rooms,  and  God  is  the  sunlight.  Every  new  way  we  find  in  which 
to  obey  Him  we  throw  open  a  shutter.  Our  souls  are  as  enclosed 
bays,  and  God  is  the  ocean.  The  only  barrier  that  can  hinder 
tree  communication  is  disobedience.  Each  duty  performed  is  the 
breaking  down  of  a  reef  of  hindrance  between  our  souls  and  God 
permitting  the  fulness  of  His  being  to  flow  in  upon  our  souls' 
Lt  IS  when  we  remember  the  greatness  of  the  nature  which  God 
bas  given  us  that  we  come  into  a  full  understanding  of  our 
relations  to  God.  At  some  time  every  man  comes  to  realize  the 
neaning  of  the  life  he  is  living;  the  secret  sins  hidden  in  his 
leart  rise  against  him.  Then  we  would  hide  ourselves  from  God 
t  we  could  But  the  only  way  to  run  from  God  is  to  run  to 
tlim.    ihe  Infinite  Knowledge  is  also  the  Infinite  Pity.i 

^  Phillips  Brooks :  Memories  of  Ms  Life,  630. 


The  Crowning  of  the  Year. 


167 


Literature. 


Little  (H.  TV,),  Arrows  for  the  King's  Archers,  50. 
Mursell  (W.  A.),  Sermons  on  Special  Occasions,  95. 
Rylance  (J.  H.),  in  The  Complete  Preacher,  ii.  180. 

Spurgeon  (C.  H.),  Metropolitan  Tabernacle  Pulpit,  xxv.  (1879),  No.  1475. 
Wilmot-Buxton  (H.  J.),  In  Many  Keys,  265. 
Wilson  (J.  M.),  Sermons  Preached  in  Clifton  College  Chapel,  ii.  35. 
Churchman's  Pulpit :    Harvest  Thanksgiving,  Pt.  97,  p.  68  (T.  B. 

Johnstone) ;  Pt.  98,  p.  81  (J.  S.  James). 
Treasury  (New  York),  xiv.  585  (J.  D.  M'Caughtry). 


i68 


The  Crowning  of  the  Year. 


Thou  crownest  the  year  with  thy  goodness  ; 
And  thy  paths  drop  fatness.— Ps.  Ixv.  ii. 

In  the  midst  of  great  political  convulsions,  of  a  shaking  of  nations 
and  kingdoms,  Jehovah  had  manifested  His  goodness  to  His 
people  by  sending  down  a  blessing  upon  their  flocks  and  their 
fields.  The  folds  were  full  of  sheep,  the  valleys  stood  so  thick 
with  corn  that  they  laughed  and  sang;  the  garners  were  filled 
with  all  manner  of  store.  Peace  had  been  given  to  Zion  as  well 
as  plenty.  A  year  of  blessing,  temporal  and  spiritual,  had  been 
"  crowned  "  by  a  secure  provision  against  the  drought  and  famine 
which  had  at  one  time  threatened  the  chosen  people. 

I. 

"Thou  hast  set  a  crown  upon  the  year  of  thy  goodness." 
Such  is  the  literal  rendering  of  the  text.  God  is  represented  as 
setting  the  crown  of  completeness  and  perfection  upon  a  long 
process.  In  the  previous  verses  we  have  a  graphic  picture  of  how 
the  grain  is  prepared.  We  see  the  plough  at  work,  scooping  out 
farrows  and  turning  up  ridges  by  one  and  the  same  process :  and 
the  Divine  Co-operator  dealing  with  both  according  to  need  and 
capacity.  The  furrows  are  naturally  receptive  of  the  streams 
which  flow  in  abundance  from  those  upper  and  invisible  channels 
of  God  which  are  full  of  water ;  and  what  they  thus  receive,  they 
hold  and  convey  to  the  roots  of  the  young  plants.  The  turned-up 
ridges  need  to  be  settled  down  and  closed  well  in  upon  the 
precious  seed  which  they  have  received.  The  same  rain  that  does 
the  one  does  the  other :  fills  the  furrows  and  settles  the  ridges. 
Divine  agriculture  is  economic  of  means,  various  in  adaptations. 
But  soon  the  surface  becomes  encrusted,  and  might  imprison  the 
tender  blade,  did  not  the  gentler  after-showers  with  their  myriad 
drops  come  to  soften  the  soil  and  make  it  easily  permeable.  And 


I70     THE  CROWNING  OF  THE  YEAR 


so,  as  eyes  of  wonder  look  on,  and  discreet  judgment  calculates 
how  many  dangers  have  been  passed  as  the  green  crop  carpets  the 
earth,  devotion  exclaims,  "  The  sprouting  thereof  thou  dost  bless." 

God  crowns  the  world  of  men  as  well  as  the  world  of  nature. 
Human  life  and  character  and  experience  have  their  supreme 
culminating  moments.  Love  comes  to  crown  the  solitary  life. 
Success  comes  to  crown  legitimate  ambition — not  forgetting  that 
there  may  be  a  true  success  in  honourable  failure.  Influence 
comes  to  crown  character.  Friendship  comes  to  crown  the  long- 
ings of  the  heart.  Trust  and  confidence  and  admiration  come  to 
crown  the  life  lived  in  honest  toil,  and  with  a  single  eye  to  the 
common  welfare.  But  the  culmination  is  a  process  :  the  crown  is 
sometimes  long  deferred.  It  is  deferred  in  nature,  yet  experience 
has  taught  us  to  expect  it.  It  looks  as  if  nothing  were  being  done 
during  the  dreary,  sterile  months  of  winter.  The  earth  seems  to 
be  dead,  and  God  appears  to  have  withdrawn.  Yet  if  our  hearing 
were  acute  enough,  we  might  lay  our  ear  to  the  ground  in 
December  and  hear  the  pulse  still  beating  in  that  mighty  bosom, 
and  by  and  by  we  shall  behold  again  the  riotous  life  of  spring. 
We  must  not  despond  when  there  is  a  winter  season  in  our  mental 
growth,  in  our  spiritual  experience,  in  our  church  life.  In  these 
higher  regions,  the  crown  is  often  long  withheld.  But  if  a  man 
is  all  the  time  reading,  observing,  studying,  thinking,  though  there 
be  no  immediate  visible  result,  there  will  come  a  moment  of 
rapturous  emancipation  when  he  realizes  that  cold  fetters,  as  it 
were,  have  fallen  from  his  brain,  and  left  him  free  to  enter  upon 
a  richer  and  riper  life  of  understanding.  God  has  crowned  the 
intellectual  year. 

•[J  Tennyson  was  in  his  81st  year  when  he  wrote  "  Crossing  the 
Bar."  He  showed  the  poem  to  his  son,  who  exclaimed,  "  That  is 
the  crown  of  your  life's  work."  "  It  came  in  a  moment,"  was  the 
aged  poet's  reply.  Yes,  but  however  instantaneous  was  the 
inspiration,  the  hymn  had  behind  it  a  lifetime  of  careful,  pains- 
taking, even  fastidious  work. 

11  Marcus  Dods  was  a  probationer  for  six  years  before 
being  called  to  Eenfield  Church,  Glasgow.  During  these  years 
of  waiting  he  was  sometimes  so  discouraged  as  to  think  of  giving 
up  the  ministry  altogether.  In  a  letter  to  his  sister  he  wrote : 
"  Do  these  two  years  and  more  waiting  not  show  that  I  am  seek- 
ing my  work  in  the  wrong  direction,  or  why  do  they  not  show  this, 


PSALM  Lxv.  II 


171 


or  how  long  would  show  this  ?  Possibly  you  may  say, '  Wait  till 
some  evident  call  to  some  other  work  arises ' ;  but  then,  of  course, 
evident  calls  enough  would  soon  arise  were  I  to  put  myself  in  the 
way  of  them,  e.g.,  were  I  to  go  along  to  Clark  the  publisher  and 
ask  him  for  some  work,  or  go  out  to  Harvey  of  Merchiston  and 
ask  him  for  some ;  whereas,  so  long  as  I  keep  myself  back  from 
such  openings  they  are  not  a  tenth  part  so  likely  to  arise.  But 
apart  from  growlery,  let  me  give  you  a  problem.  I  will  give  it  you 
in  the  concrete,  as  being  easier  stated  and  easier  apprehended.  Is 
it  right  of  me  to  wait  and  see  whether  I  get  a  call  or  no,  and  let 
this  decide  whether  I  ought  or  ought  not  to  take  a  charge  ?  To  me 
it  seems  not  (though  it's  just  what  I'm  doing),  and  on  this  ground, 
because  in  fact  we  find  that  God  has  often  suffered  men  to  enter 
the  Church  who  were  not  worthy — because,  that  is,  the  call  of  the 
people  does  not  always  represent  the  call  of  God."  He  was  after- 
wards Professor  of  Exegesis  and  Principal  of  the  New  College, 
Edinburgh.^ 

II. 

The  harvest  crown  comes  as  the  reward  of  human  labour. 
Man  is  called  to  be  a  co-worker  with  God.  The  sun  and  the  rain 
may  do  their  best,  and  the  earth  yield  all  its  quickening  powers, 
but  the  harvest  would  be  but  a  heap  of  wild  and  tangled  weeds 
without  the  constant  work  and  toil  of  man.  The  earth  will  show 
its  wondrous  fecundity.  Every  seed  that  drops  into  its  bosom 
must  grow  or  die,  and  it  is  man's  part  to  curb  the  wild  extrava- 
gance of  nature,  to  destroy  that  which  is  mere  weed  or  worthless, 
in  order  that  there  may  be  room  for  the  good  to  grow  and  ripen. 
God  gives  little  even  in  nature  without  our  toil ;  He  never  gives 
a  rich  and  bounteous  harvest  unless  we  give  our  work,  and  care, 
and  watchful  supervision  over  its  growth. 

The  world  is  but  a  great  harvest-field,  in  which,  each  in  his  own 
place,  we  are  called  forth  to  take  our  part,  and  to  do  our  share  of 
labour.  Neither  by  the  structure  of  our  nature,  nor  by  the  con- 
stitution of  society,  is  there  any  room  for  the  idler,  or  any  possibility 
of  true  enjoyment  and  happiness  without  work.  If  we  want  to 
be  truly  happy,  to  attain  in  any  measure  to  the  real  use  and  en- 
joyment of  life,  work  of  some  kind  we  must  have.  There  ought 
to  be  no  play  without  work.  No  man  is  entitled  to  enjoyment 
who  does  not  purchase  it  by  labour.    The  sweetest  holiday  is  that 

*  Early  Letters  of  Marcus  Bods,  198. 


172     THE  CROWNING  OF  THE  YEAR 


which  we  have  earned  by  strenuous  application.  God  has  so  made 
us  that  we  must  find  our  pleasure  either  in  working,  or  as  the 
reward  of  working. 

^  There  are  certain  countries  of  such  tropical  luxuriance  and 
fertility  that  you  have  only  to  tickle  the  earth  with  a  hoe,  and  she 
laughs  with  a  harvest.  But  you  do  not  find  the  highest  type  of 
men  where  Nature  is  so  kind.  There  is  an  enervating  kindness. 
In  these  Northern  lands  men  have  a  tussle  with  the  earth  to  make 
her  yield  up  her  fruits,  and  they  become  the  stronger  for  their 
battle  with  the  elements.  But  they  invariably  find  that  God 
answers  the  prayer  of  their  labour.  There  is  a  flourishing  kitchen 
garden  behind  the  hotel  at  Gairloch,  reclaimed  from  the  barest 
and  barrenest  bit  of  moorland  I  ever  saw.  All  that  countryside 
is  just  wild  mountain,  bare  rock,  shaggy  heath,  and  desolate  moor ; 
to  get  a  kitchen  garden  out  of  such  a  spot  is  a  triumph.  It  must 
have  needed  some  considerable  faith  to  make  the  attempt,  and  it 
was  justified.  God  is  always  ready  to  supply  if  man  only  has 
conscience  enough  to  demand.    "  He  is  faithful  that  promised."  ^ 

^  "  My  Father  worketh  hitherto,  and  I  work."  And  I  work  ! 
Say  that  too.  If  you  destroy  the  sequence,  life  loses  heart,  and 
joy,  and  meaning,  and  value.  Swing  into  line  with  the  eternal 
energy,  be  a  force  among  forces,  a  toiler,  a  producer,  a  factor,  and 
life  never  loses  its  tone  and  flavour,  its  bead  or  glamour.  There 
is  no  real  taste  to  bread  nor  bliss  in  sleep  for  the  idler.  He  is  the 
doubter,  the  sceptic,  the  unhappy  man.  His  idleness  proclaims 
him  diseased  and  decaying.^ 

Get  leave  to  work 
In  this  world — 'tis  the  best  you  get  at  all; 
For  God,  in  cursing,  gives  us  better  gifts 
Than  men  in  benediction.    God  says,  "Sweat 
For  foreheads,"  men  say  "crowns,"  and  so  we  are  crowned, 
Aye,  gashed  by  some  tormenting  circle  of  steel 
Which  snaps  with  a  secret  spring.    Get  work,  get  work; 
Be  sure  'tis  better  than  what  you  work  to  get.^ 

III. 

And  yet  the  harvest  is  the  gift  of  God,  and  should  link  man 
to  God.    Man  can  only  do  a  little ;  he  ploughs  and  sows,  and 

»  W.  A.  Mursell. 

^  M.  D.  Babcock,  ThougJds  for  Every-Day  Living,  16. 
'  E.  B.  Browniug. 


PSALM  Lxv.  II 


173 


makes  what  preparation  he  can,  and  then  he  has  to  sit  down  and 
wait.  He  can  hasten  nothing.  If  he  goes  out  and  waves  his 
hands  magically  over  the  brown  furrows,  nothing  happens ;  if  he 
stamps  and  rages,  he  does  but  reveal  his  impatience,  and  emphasize 
his  own  impotence.  He  must  work,  and  then  he  must  wait ;  and 
there  is  something  profoundly  religious  and  infinitely  suggestive 
in  that  waiting.  What  is  he  waiting  for  ?  God.  For  aught  we 
know,  God  could  do  the  work  instantly ;  the  harvest  might  follow 
immediately  upon  the  seed-sowing,  like  the  genii  in  the  fairy 
tale.  God  could  bring  the  gift  at  once  on  man's  asking.  But  our 
world  is  not  the  world  of  the  Arabian  Nights.  God  chooses  to 
wait  on  man's  co-operation.  He  allows  him  to  do  so  much  that 
man  is  tempted  to  suppose  that  he  is  himself  the  author  of  the 
whole  process  of  production.  But  man  has  not  cleared  up  the 
mystery  of  growth  by  calling  it  Evolution.  Whatever  scientific 
explanation  the  human  mind  can  offer  of  a  harvest-field,  the 
element  of  mystery  remains  precisely  where  it  was  before,  and  it  is 
that  element  of  mystery  that  makes  us  fall  down  and  worship  ;  it  is 
that  element  of  mystery  that  fills  us  with  a  wonder  akin  to  prayer ; 
it  is  that  element  of  mystery  that  turns  every  flower  into  an 
altar,  and  makes  a  sanctuary  of  every  cornfield.  God  thus  keeps 
His  hold  of  us  by  the  persistence  of  the  mysterious  element  in 
things.  If  we  could  explain  the  harvest,  we  could  explain  God, 
and  our  fairest  vision  would  fade  into  the  light  of  common 
day. 

^  In  harvest  time  the  Greek  saw  the  good  goddess  Ceres 
bearing  her  golden  sheaves;  the  modern  farmer  too  frequently 
sees  only  the  result  of  his  own  knowledge,  or  of  the  latest  patent 
manure.  We  pity  the  poor  heathen  Greek ;  ought  we  not  rather 
to  pity  ourselves  ?  ^ 

The  seed  was  spread  in  the  furrowed  earth, 

And  nurtured  long  in  the  gloom  it  lay. 

Till  the  beckoning  hours  led  on  its  birth 

And  drew  it  up  to  the  laughing  day. 

The  young  spring  soothed  and  cherished  the  blade. 

And  summer  'stablished  the  stately  stem. 

And  the  Lord  was  glad  of  the  thing  He'd  made, 

The  fair  green  ears  and  the  fruit  of  them. 

» H.  J.  Wilmot-Buxton. 


174     THE  CROWNING  OF  THE  YEAR 


Summer  had  worked  her  will,  and  past 
With  her  world  of  green,  and  autumn  arose 
And  over  the  prospering  tillage  cast 
A  glory  of  change;  the  marshalled  rows 
Of  bearded  barley  and  four-square  wheat 
And  pale  oats,  bearing  a  hundredfold, 
Bipened  under  her  shapely  feet, 
And  out  of  the  green  ear  grew  the  gold. 

God,  how  wonderful  this  the  thing. 

The  new-old  miracle  Thou  hast  done, 

This  proud  triumphant  fashioning. 

Through  rains  and  wind  and  shine  of  the  sun, 

Of  ripe  and  rich  abundance,  borne 

To-day  to  the  sheltering  homes  of  men ; 

For  us  Thy  Spirit  among  the  corn 

Has  moved,  and  one  has  grown  as  ten.^ 

IV. 

The  crown  of  harvest  is  woven  in  the  loom  of  winter.  Out 
of  December  comes  June.  Out  of  the  Cross  is  fashioned  the 
Crown.  Perpetual  summer  would  be  loss  unutterable.  Perpetual 
summer  would  be  perpetual  mockery.  There  is  no  greenness  of 
the  grass  in  June  unless  there  be  the  chillness  of  November. 
God  needs  the  one  if  He  would  make  the  other ;  fashions  the  glory 
out  of  the  decay ;  lays  the  field  under  the  grip  of  ice  that  it  may 
be  golden  with  the  waving  grain. 

11  If  any  one  should  ask  me  where  I  have  seen,  in  the  course 
of  my  journeyings,  the  freshest  verdure  and  the  greenest  grass,  I 
think  I  might  surprise  you  with  my  answer.  I  have  seen  the 
tenderest  foliage  where  the  fire  has  recently  swept  through  the 
forest.  Whether  it  was  because  of  the  contrast  provided  by  the 
blackened  timbers  or  not,  I  cannot  say,  but  the  truth  is  I  never 
saw  such  tender  green  as  springs  amongst  the  blackened  embers 
of  the  forest  fire.  Certain  it  is  I  have  never  seen  such  graces 
as  those  that  spring  when  the  tribulation  has  passed  by.  Oh  ! 
what  a  scorching  flame  it  was ;  but  the  grass  grows  green  there, 
and  the  flowers  spring  tender  there  by  reason  of  the  fire.  There 
was  a  soil  prepared  which  has  suited  the  tender  growth.  Thank 
God  for  the  tribulation  that  makes  us  greener  and  tenderer  in 
consequence.^ 

*  J.  Drinkwater,  Poems  of  Men  and  Hours,  24,  ^  Thomas  Spurgeon, 


PSALM  Lxv.  II 


175 


^  I  suppose  there  are  many  of  us  who  are  lovers  of  the  Tweed. 
It  is  so  beautiful,  that  river  Tweed,  and  is  so  haunted  by  a 
hundred  memories.  And  yet  that  river,  in  whose  gentle  murmur- 
ing we  catch  the  echo  of  unforgotten  voices,  rises  where  everything 
is  bleak  and  bare.  There  is  no  beauty  that  we  should  desire  it 
there.  There  is  only  the  desolate  and  lonely  moor.  There  is  no 
song,  no  shadowing  of  tree,  no  gathering  of  the  great  dead  beside 
its  waters.  Out  of  that  winter  God  has  made  its  summer,  and  to 
that  summer  come  a  thousand  pilgrims,  who  know  not,  for  they 
have  never  seen,  the  bleak  and  barren  region  of  its  rise.^ 

^  Christ  was  content  to  have  His  crown  of  glory  fashioned  in 
agony.  He  took  to  Himself  a  crown  of  thorns.  He  came  to  wear 
it,  and  He  would  have  no  other.  After  the  miracle  of  the  loaves 
the  people  would  have  crowned  Him  with  an  earthly  crown,  and 
He  fled  from  them.  He  was  afraid  of  them.  He  hid  Himself  in 
a  quiet  place.  They  wanted  to  give  Him  an  honour  He  could 
not  accept.  They  wanted  to  put  around  His  brow  the  golden 
circlet  of  a  brief  popularity  and  a  civic  leadership.  But  He 
would  not  have  it.  There  was  a  crown  of  thorns  waiting  for  Him, 
and  He  would  not  be  defrauded  of  it.  There  was  a  coronation 
day  coming,  and  it  must  not  be  anticipated.  He  was  going  by  a 
path  that  few  would  be  willing  to  follow — unto  an  honour  that 
few  would  be  wishful  to  win.  Oh,  who  is  strong  enough  and  brave 
enough  to  go  on  as  Christ  went  treading  underfoot  the  golden 
crown  of  gain  and  reaching  out  after  the  thorny  crown  of 
sacrifice?  He  chose  between  the  crown  that  glitters  and  the 
crown  that  wounds.  He  refused  the  one  that  He  might  wear  the 
other* 

It  was  a  thorn, 

And  it  stood  forlorn 
In  the  burning  sunrise  land : 

A  blighted  thorn 

And  at  eve  and  morn 
Thus  it  sighed  to  the  desert  sand : 

Every  flower, 

By  its  beauty's  power, 
With  a  crown  of  glory  is  crowned; 

No  crown  have  I ; 

For  a  crown  I  sigh, 
For  a  crown  that  I  have  not  found. 

1  G.  H.  Morrison,  The  Afterglow  of  God,  94. 

2  p.  C.  Ainswortli,  A  Thornless  World,  194. 


i 


176     THE  CROWNING  OF  THE  YEAR 


Sad  thorn,  why  grieve? 

Thou  a  crown  shalt  weave, 
But  not  for  a  maiden  to  wear ; 

That  crown  shall  shine 

When  all  crowns  save  thine 
With  the  glory  they  gave  are  gone. 

For  thorn,  my  thorn, 
Thy  crown  shall  be  worn 
By  the  King  of  Sorrows  alone.^ 

V. 

The  crown  of  harvest  is  not  for  ornament  and  beauty  only, 
but  for  utility  and  beneficence.  The  ripe  grain  becomes  the 
seed  of  future  harvests.  The  husbandman  takes  of  his  best  corn, 
safe  in  his  granary,  and  casts  it  into  the  earth.  He  sacrifices 
what  is  precious  to  him  for  the  sake  of  the  harvest  in  the  future. 
So  it  is  with  those  who  work  for  worldly  success.  They  sacrifice 
time,  rest,  ease,  comfort ;  they  deny  themselves  pleasure  now  that 
they  may  reap  a  rich  harvest  in  the  end.  So  must  it  be  with 
those  who  sow  for  eternity.  They  must  deny  themselves,  they 
must  sow  in  tears,  they  must  go  forth  weeping  and  bearing  this 
good  seed.  Jesus,  our  Master,  sowed  in  tears,  sowed  in  the  agony 
and  bloody  sweat.  He  sacrificed  Himself  that  He  might  gather 
the  glorious  harvest  of  a  world  redeemed,  of  a  Church  bought 
with  His  Precious  Blood.  He  gave  up  His  Sacred  Body,  like  a 
seed  to  be  bruised  and  crushed  by  cruel  hands,  and  to  be  sown 
in  the  furrow  of  the  grave.  But  the  harvest  came.  That  Body 
sown  in  the  weakness  of  death  was  raised  in  the  power  of  the 
resurrection,  and  so  Jesus  reaped  the  harvest  for  Himself  and 
for  us  His  people. 

^  The  story  of  a  night  of  seemingly  fruitless  toil,  which  resulted 
in  great  blessing,  is  retold  in  the  Illustrated  Missionary  News. 
Miss  Harris,  of  Medak,  in  India,  utterly  tired  out,  was  one  even- 
ing about  to  return  home,  when  the  son  of  the  head-man  of  an 
important  village,  who  had  been  poisoned,  was  hurriedly  brought 
into  the  compound.  She  saw  it  was  impossible  to  save  him,  and 
yet  she  kept  the  night  vigil,  rendering  him  the  most  menial 
service — service  hardly  fit  for  the  village  scavenger.    The  father 

^  Owen  Meredith. 


PSALM  Lxv.  II 


177 


and  brothers  watched  all  the  time,  and  although  the  missionary 
returned  home  utterly  spent  next  morning,  feeling  as  if  nothing 
had  been  accomplished,  the  chief  and  his  family,  as  they  watched, 
had  judged  between  Hinduism  and  the  Gospel  of  Christ,  and 
within  six  months  the  whole  of  the  large  family  of  the  village 
chief  was  baptized ;  soon  a  church  and  school  were  founded  in  the 
village,  and  from  the  chief's  family  there  are  now  (so  runs  the 
encouraging  report)  no  fewer  than  ten  evangelists  and  Bible- 
,  women. 

• 

A  Sower  went  forth  to  sow; 

His  eyes  were  dark  with  woe; 
I  He  crushed  the  flowers  beneath  his  feet, 

I  Nor  smelt  their  perfume,  warm  and  sweet, 

That  prayed  for  pity  everywhere. 

He  came  to  a  field  that  was  harried 

By  iron,  and  to  heaven  laid  bare; 

He  shook  the  seed  that  he  carried 

O'er  that  brown  and  bladeless  place. 

He  shook  it,  as  God  shakes  the  hail 

O'er  a  doomed  land, 

When  lightnings  interlace 

The  sky  and  the  earth,  and  his  wand 

Of  love  is  a  thunder-flail. 

Thus  did  that  Sower  sow; 

His  seed  was  human  blood. 

And  tears  of  women  and  men. 

And  I,  who  near  him  stood. 

Said :  "  When  the  crop  comes,  then 

There  will  be  sobbing  and  sighing, 

Weeping  and  wailing  and  crying. 

Flame,  and  ashes,  and  woe." 

It  was  an  autumn  day 
When  next  I  went  that  way. 
And  what,  think  you,  did  I  see  ? 
What  was  it  that  I  heard, 
What  music  was  in  the  air? 
The  song  of  a  sweet- voiced  bird? 
Nay — but  the  songs  of  many, 
Thrilled  through  with  praise  and  prayer. 
Of  all  those  voices  not  any 
Were  sad  of  memory; 
PS.  xxv.-cxix. — 12 


THE  CROWNING  OF  THE  YEAR 


But  a  sea  of  sunlight  flowed, 

A  golden  harvest  glowed, 

And  I  said:  "Thou  only  art  wise, 

God  of  the  earth  and  skies ! 

And  I  praise  Thee,  again  and  again. 

For  the  Sower  whose  name  is  Pain."^ 

»  E.  W.  Gilder,  The  Sower. 


The  Burden-Bearing  God. 


X79 


Literature. 


Ainswortli  (P.  C),  A  Thornless  World,  154. 
Barrett  (G.  S.),  Musings  for  Quiet  Hours,  27. 
Clifford  (J.),  The  Secret  of  Jesus,  57. 
Cuyler  (T.  L.),  Stirring  the  Eagle's  Nest,  39. 
Dix  (M.),  Christ  at  the  Door  of  the  Heart,  195. 
Forbes  (J.  L.),  God's  Measure,  175. 
Hamilton  (J.),  TVorhs,  vi.  430. 
Jowett  (J,  H.),  Thirsting  for  the  Springs,  41. 
Maclaren  (A.),  Expositions  :  Psalms  li.-cxlv.,  93. 
Matheson  (G.),  Messages  of  Hope,  145. 
Morrison  (G.  H.),  The  Afterglow  of  God,  320. 
Neville  (W.  G.),  Sermons,  312. 
Raleigli  (A.),  Quiet  Besting -Places,  331. 

Spurgeon  (C.  H.),  Metropolitan  Tabernacle  Pulpit,  xlix.  (1903),  No. 
Talmage  (T.  de  W.),  Sermons,  vi.  145. 

Vaughan  (J.),  Sermons  (Brighton  Pulpit),  ix.  (1872),  No.  793. 
Christian  World  Pulpit,  lii.  74  (T.  J  ones). 
Church  of  England  Pulpit,  xxxviii.  195. 

Clergyman's  Magazine,  3rd  Ser.,  ii.  (1891)  247  (H.  G.  Youard). 
Literary  Churchman,  xxxii.  (1886)  (M.  Fuller),  355. 


i8o 


The  Burden-Bearing  God. 

I  Blessed  be  the  Lord,  who  daily  beareth  our  burden.— Ps.  Ixviii.  19. 

HE  occasion  of  this  psalm  was  the  removal  of  the  ark  to  Zion 
iter  it  had  been  returned  by  the  Philistines.  Under  the  figures 
i'  a  military  invasion  and  occupation  and  settlement  of  the  land, 
'avid  represents  Jehovah  as  Leader  conquering  His  enemies,' 
assessing  Himself  of  their  land,  choosing  a  city  for  the  seat  of 
is  Empire,  and  advancing  in  triumphal  procession  to  enter  upon 
is  chosen  residence.  In  the  passage  of  the  ark,  the  sign  of 
'od's  presence,  through  the  land  to  the  site  on  Mount  Zion, 
iiosen  as  the  religious  Metropolis  of  the  world,  David  sees  a 
[petition  in  the  religious  realm  of  the  earlier  march  into  and 
Dcupation  of  the  country  in  the  birth- time  of  the  nation.  His 
lind  runs  back  to  that  first  victorious  advance  of  God  through 
le  desert  at  the  head  of  His  chosen  race;  to  the  entrance  of  the 
ictorious  people  into  the  land  of  Canaan;  to  the  establishment  of 
Ion  as  the  place  of  His  settled  worship;  and  he  sees  in  this 
icond  and  more  illustrious  establishment  of  Zion  as  the  place  of 
iDd's  rest  not  only  the  security  for  the  blessedness  of  his  own 
lad,  but  the  promise  of  a  universal  dominion,  of  which  the  fitful 
i3ams  of  peace  and  happiness  that  they  had  as  a  nation  under  the 
;w  monarchy  formed  but  a  faint  and  imperfect  foreshadowing. 

And  then,  as  he  thinks  of  the  splendid  issue  of  this  Divine 
icupation  of  Mount  Zion,  and  the  establishment  there  of  the  true 
Drship,  he  breaks  forth  into  a  direct  ascription  of  praise  to  God. 
b  looks  back  on  the  long  years  of  the  Divine  patience  and 
I'bearance ;  on  not  only  the  special  times  of  deliverance,  but  the 
iy-by-day  guardianship  and  sustenance  of  God,  and  as  he  does  so 
says : 

"Blessed  be  the  Lord,  who  daily  beareth  our  burden 
Even  the  God  who  is  our  salvation." 

181 


i82       THE  BURDEN-BEARING  GOD 


^  In  the  Authorized  Version  this  verse  reads  thus :  "  Blessed  be 
the  Lord,  who  daily  loadeth  us  with  benefits,"  the  last  two  words 
being  in  italics,  to  show  that  they  are  not  in  the  original.  In 
point  of  fact,  the  Hebrew  is  equally  capable  of  both  interpreta- 
tions, and  may  be  rendered  either,  "Blessed  be  the  Lord,  who 
daily  burdens  us,"  that  is,  "  with  benefits  " ;  or,  "  Blessed  be  the 
Lord,  who  daily  beareth  our  burden."  The  great  objection  to  the 
rendering  which  has  become  familiar  to  us  all,  "  who  daily  loadeth 
us  with  henejits''  is  that  these  essential  words  are  not  in  the 
original,  and  need  to  be  supplied  in  order  to  make  out  the  sense. 
Whereas,  on  the  other  hand,  if  we  adopt  the  suggested  emenda- 
tion, "  who  daily  beareth  our  burden,"  we  get  a  still  more  beauti- 
ful meaning,  which  requires  no  forced  addition  in  order  to  bring  it 
out.  There  is  a  still  more  attractive  rendering  found  in  several  of 
the  ancient  versions :  "  Blessed  be  the  Lord  who  daily  beareth  us." 


L 

The  Inevitable  Burden. 

Perhaps  the  most  perplexing  element  in  life  is  the  wide  sway 
of  tli£  Inevitable.  The  area  of  our  freedom  of  choice  is  so  pain- 
fully limited  that,  though  we  are  turned  into  a  capacious  garden, 
stored  with  an  incalculable  wealth  of  flower  and  fruit,  yet  we  can 
do  so  little  ourselves,  and  are  of  so  little  account,  that  we  are  fain 
to  despise  our  inheritance  and  neglect  the  care  of  our  flower-beds 
and  the  watch  of  the  fruit-trees.  The  life  we  contrive  for  our- 
selves is  unexpectedly  broken  up  or  overpressed,  till  it  has  none 
of  the  shape  and  little  of  the  beauty  we  intended ;  indeed,  it  some- 
times seems  little  more  than  a  central  thoroughfare  for  the  irre- 
sistible steeds  of  fate.  The  youth  descries  his  far-off  goal,  and 
with  measureless  pluck  and  brightest  hope  sets  out  resolved  to 
reach  it,  but  is  tripped  up  before  he  has  travelled  many  yards ; 
and  though  he  rises,  gains  his  feet  and  attempts  the  herculean 
task  a  hundred  times,  it  is  to  find  himself  nearer  indeed,  but  only 
to  what  is  now  a  receding  mark.  The  man  of  business  builds  his 
barns  larger  in  time  for  them  to  be  burnt  by  the  desolating  fire, 
or  sends  his  boat  to  sea  to  be  destroyed  by  the  despotism  of  the 
storm.  Pettiness  and  weariness  eat  the  heart  out  of  the  life  of 
artist  and  artisan,  patriot  and  poet,  and  make  existence  and  toil 


PSALM  Lxviii.  19 


poor  and  bitter  as  the  apples  of  Sodom.  Thus  life  not  only  has 
its  burdens  but,  in  a  true  and  not  ignoble  sense,  it  is  itself  a 
burden. 

1.  There  is  the  awful  burden  of  personal  existence.  It  is  a 
solemn  thing  to  be  able  to  say  "I."  And  that  carries  with  it 
this,  that,  after  all  sympathy,  after  all  nestling  closeness  of  affec- 
tion, after  the  tenderest  exhibition  of  identity  of  feeling,  and  of 
swift  godlike  readiness  to  help,  each  of  us  lives  alone.  Like  the 
inhabitants  of  the  islands  of  the  Greek  Archipelago,  we  are  able 
to  wave  signals  to  the  next  island,  and  sometimes  to  send  a  boat 
with  provisions  and  succour,  but  we  are  parted,  "  with  echoing 
straits  between  us  thrown."  Every  man,  after  all,  lives  alone, 
and  society  is  like  the  material  things  round  about  us,  which  are 
all  compressible,  because  the  atoms  that  compose  them  are  not  in 
actual  contact,  but  separated  by  slenderer  or  more  substantial 
films  of  isolating  air.  Thus  there  is  even  in  the  sorrows  which 
we  can  share  with  our  brethren,  and  in  all  the  burdens  which  we 
can  help  to  bear,  an  element  which  cannot  be  imparted.  "  The 
heart  knoweth  its  own  bitterness  " ;  and  neither  "  stranger "  nor 
other  "  intermeddleth  "  with  the  deepest  fountains  of  "  its  joy." 

^  Dr.  M^^Laren  began  to  feel  more  keenly  the  inevitable 
solitariness  of  old  age,  as  one  by  one  his  contemporaries  left  him. 
Reviewing  old  days  in  Lancashire,  he  said  on  one  occasion, 
'There  were  three — Stowell  Brown  went  home;  there  were 
two — Charles  Williams  gone — and  I  am  left  alone,  it  is  very 
solitary."  Two  of  his  sisters  reached  ninety  years  of  age  and 
beyond  it,  but  between  1903  and  1906  they,  and  two  brothers-in- 
law  and  a  sister-in-law,  died.  Eeferring  to  these  family  losses, 
he  writes :  "  I  feel  as  if  we  were  like  shipwrecked  sailors 
slinging  to  the  keel  of  an  upturned  boat,  and  seeing  one  after 
another  lose  their  hold  and  sink.  But  thank  God,  we  shall  rise, 
ind  not  sink  when  our  hands  can  no  longer  grasp  the  seen. 
Each  departure  brings  us  sensibly  more  face  to  face  with  our 
30on-coming  turn.  May  the  gate  open  a  little  as  we  draw  nearer 
:t,  and  give  us  some  beam  of  the  light  within.  Let  us  keep  nearer 
30  the  Lord  of  life  and  we  shall  be  ready  for  our  passing  into  life."  ^ 

2.  Then  again  there  is  the  burden  of  responsihility,  which  each 
iias  to  bear  for  himself.    A  dozen  soldiers  may  be  turned  out  to 

^  E.  T.  M'^Laren,  Dr.  M'^Laren  of  Manchester,  242. 


i84       THE  BURDEN-BEARING  GOD 


make  a  firing  party  to  shoot  the  mutineer ;  and  no  man  knows 
who  fired  the  shot,  but  one  man  did  fire  it.  And  although  there 
may  have  been  companions,  it  was  his  rifle  that  carried  the 
bullet,  and  his  finger  that  pulled  the  trigger.  We  say,  "  The 
woman  Thou  gavest  me  tempted  me,  and  I  did  eat."  Or  we  say, 
"  My  natural  appetites,  for  which  I  am  not  responsible,  but  Thou 
who  madest  me  art,  drew  me  aside,  and  I  fell " ;  or  we  may  say, 
"It  was  not  I;  it  was  the  other."  And  then  there  rises  up  in 
our  hearts  a  veiled  form,  and  from  its  majestic  lips  comes,  "  Thou 
art  the  man  " ;  and  our  whole  being  echoes  assent — Mea  culpa ; 
mea  maxima  culpa — "  My  fault,  my  exceeding  great  fault."  No 
man  can  bear  that  burden  for  me. 

^  Mr.  Gladstone  sometimes  so  far  yielded  to  his  colleagues  as 
to  sanction  steps  which  he  thought  not  the  best,  and  may  in 
this  have  sometimes  erred ;  yet  compromises  are  unavoidable,  for 
no  Cabinet  could  be  kept  together  if  its  members  did  not  now  and 
then,  in  matters  not  essential,  yield  to  one  another.  When  all  the 
facts  of  his  life  come  to  be  known,  instances  may  be  disclosed 
in  which  he  was  the  victim  of  his  own  casuistry  or  of  his  defer- 
ence to  Peel's  maxim  that  a  minister  should  not  avow  a  change  of 
view  until  the  time  has  come  to  give  effect  to  it.  But  it  will  also 
be  made  clear  that  he  strove  to  obey  his  conscience,  that  he  acted 
with  an  ever-present  sense  of  his  responsibility  to  the  Almighty, 
and  that  he  was  animated  by  an  unselfish  enthusiasm  for  humanity, 
enlightenment,  and  freedom.^ 

3.  Closely  connected  with  the  burden  of  responsibility  there  is' 
another — the  burden  of  the  inevitable  consequences  of  transgression, 
not  only  in  the  future,  when  all  human  bonds  of  companion- 
ship shall  be  broken,  and  each  man  shall  "  give  account  of  himself 
to  God,"  but  here  and  now.  The  effects  of  our  evil  deeds  come 
back  to  roost ;  and  they  never  make  a  mistake  as  to  where  they 
should  alight.  If  I  have  sown,  I,  and  no  one  else,  will  gather. 
No  sympathy  will  prevent  to-morrow's  headache  after  to-night's 
debauch,  and  nothing  that  anybody  can  do  will  turn  the  sleuth 
hounds  off  the  scent.  Though  they  may  be  slow-footed,  they 
have  sure  noses  and  deep-mouthed  fangs.  "  If  thou  be  wise,  thou 
shalt  be  wise  for  thyself ;  but  if  thou  scornest,  thou  alone  shalt 
bear  it." 

*  J.  Biyce,  Studies  in  Contemporary  Biography,  452. 


PSALM  Lxviii.  19  185 

If  While  Farrar  dared  not  set  limits  to  the  infinite  mercy  of 
an  all-merciful  God  and  Father,  none  ever  pointed  with  sterner 
finger  to  the  ineluctable  Nemesis  that  attends  on  sin.  "  The  man 
,  who  is  sold  under  sin  is  dead,  morally  dead,  spiritually  dead  ;  and 
such  a  man  is  a  ghost,  far  more  awful  than  the  soul  which  was 
once  in  a  dead  body,  for  he  is  a  body  bearing  about  with  him  a 
dead  soul.  Better,  far,  far  better  for  him  to  have  cut  off  the  right 
hand,  or  plucked  out  the  right  eye,  than  to  have  been  cast  as  he 
has  been,  now  in  his  lifetime — and  as  he  will  be  cast  until  he 
repents,  even  beyond  the  grave,  into  that  Gehenna  of  aeonian 
fire !  It  shall  purify  him,  God  grant,  in  due  time ;  but  oh !  it 
shall  agonize,  because  he  has  made  himself,  as  yet,  incapable  of 
any  other  redemption.  So  that  if  any  youth  have  wickedly 
thought  in  his  heart  that  God  is  even  such  an  one  as  himself — that 
he  may  break  with  impunity  God's  awful  commandments,  that  he 
may  indulge  with  impunity  his  own  evil  lusts,  let  him  recall  the 
sad  experience  of  Solomon,  *  Walk  in  the  ways  of  thine  heart,  and 
in  the  sight  of  thine  eyes;  but  know  thou,  that  for  all  these 
things  God  will  bring  thee  into  judgment.'  Let  him  remember 
the  stern  warning  of  Isaiah,  '  Woe  unto  them  that  call  evil  good, 
and  good  evil ;  that  put  darkness  for  light,  and  light  for  darkness ; 
that  put  bitter  for  sweet,  and  sweet  for  bitter !  Therefore  as  the 
fire  devoureth  the  stubble,  and  the  flame  consumeth  the  chaff,  so 
shall  their  root  be  as  rottenness,  and  their  blossom  shall  go  up  as 
dust :  because  they  have  cast  away  the  law  of  the  Lord  of  hosts, 
and  despised  the  word  of  the  Holy  One  of  Israel.' "  ^ 

4.  The  burdens  grow  with  the  growing  life  of  man,  so  that  the 
more  the  man  has  the  more  he  has  to  carry ;  the  severer  the  test 
of  what  he  is  in  himself,  of  his  conscience  and  heart,  his  sympathy 
and  will,  his  faith  and  love.  The  boy  strong,  agile,  without  work 
and  without  want,  is  as  free  from  care  as  a  frisky  kitten.  The 
man  solitary,  without  friend  or  home  or  responsibility,  carries  all 
his  cares  under  his  hat,  and  the  thinner  his  life,  the  less  there  is 
of  anxiety.  But  the  father  of  a  family  is  the  bond  of  the  house, 
the  support  of  wife  and  children,  and  must  bear  himself  erect 
under  the  cares  of  the  home,  of  business,  of  parish,  and  of  State. 
Add  life,  and  you  add  care.  Enlarge  your  world,  and  you  increase 
your  burdens.  All  strong  emotions,  all  really  great  ideas,  outleap 
our  individual  life,  and  carry  us  to  the  larger,  deeper,  fuller  life 
of  the  world.    Therefore  the  greatest  life  is  the  most  burdened, 

^  R.  Farrar,  Life  of  Bean  Farrar^  269. 


i86       THE  BURDEN-BEARING  GOD 

and  the  saintliest  soul  feels  the  mystery  and  greatness  of  human 
life  most  of  all.  To  the  Greek,  life  is  sunshine  and  joy ;  beauty 
swims  in  upon  the  soul ;  his  spirit  is  glad  and  he  carries  no  care ; 
but  the  Hebrew,  with  his  stern,  inexorable  righteousness,  his 
awful  sense  of  stewardship,  his  solemn  knowledge  of  a  "  covenant 
with  the  Eternal,"  cries  out  for  deliverance  from  the  taint  of  guilt 
and  the  burden  of  perplexity ;  and  of  all  the  Hebrews  it  is  the 
man  of  widest  culture,  maturest  thought,  and  loftiest  aspiration 
who  exclaims,  "  0  wretched  man  that  I  am !  who  shall  deliver  me 
from  this  body  of  death  ? " 

^  Who  can  tell  us  of  the  power  which  events  possess — 
whether  they  issue  from  us,  or  whether  we  owe  our  being  to 
them  ?  Do  we  attract  them,  or  are  we  attracted  by  them  ?  Do 
we  mould  them,  or  do  they  mould  us  ?  Are  they  always  unerr- 
ing in  their  course  ?  Why  do  they  come  to  us  like  the  bee  to  the 
hive,  like  the  dove  to  the  cote ;  and  where  do  they  find  a  resting- 
place  when  we  are  not  there  to  meet  them  ?  Whence  is  it  that 
they  come  to  us ;  and  why  are  they  shaped  in  our  image,  as 
though  they  were  our  brothers  ?  Are  their  workings  in  the  past 
or  in  the  future ;  and  are  the  more  powerful  of  them  those  that 
are  no  longer,  or  those  that  are  not  yet  ?  Is  it  to-day  or  to- 
morrow that  moulds  us  ?  Do  we  not  all  spend  the  greater  part 
of  our  lives  under  the  shadow  of  an  event  that  has  not  yet  come 
to  pass  ?  I  have  noticed  the  same  grave  gestures,  the  footsteps 
that  seemed  to  tend  towards  a  goal  that  was  all  too  near,  the  pre- 
sentiments that  chilled  the  blood,  the  fixed,  immovable  look — I 
have  noticed  all  these  in  the  men,  even,  whose  end  was  to  come 
about  by  accident,  the  men  on  whom  death  would  suddenly  seize 
from  without.  And  yet  were  they  as  eager  as  their  brethren, 
who  bore  the  seeds  of  death  within  them.  Their  faces  were  the 
same.  To  them,  too,  life  was  fraught  with  more  seriousness  than 
to  those  who  were  to  live  their  full  span.  The  same  careful, 
silent  watchfulness  marked  their  actions.  They  had  no  time  to 
lose ;  they  had  to  be  in  readiness  at  the  same  hour ;  so  completely 
had  this  event,  which  no  prophet  could  have  foretold,  become  the 
very  life  of  their  life.^ 

Here  in  our  little  island-home  we  bide 

Our  few  brief  years — the  years  that  we  possess. 

Beyond,  the  Infinite  on  every  side 

Holds  what  no  man  may  know,  though  all  may  guess. 

^  M.  Maeterlinck,  ^he  Treasure  of  the  Humble,  51. 


PSALM  Lxviii.  19 


187 


Earth,  that  is  next  to  nothing  in  the  sum 
Of  things  created — a  brief  mote  in  space, 

With  all  her  aeons  past  and  yet  to  come. 
How  we  miscalculate  our  size—our  place! 

Yet  are  we  men — details  of  the  design, 

Set  to  our  course,  like  circling  sun  and  star; 

Mortal,  infinitesimal,  yet  divine 

Of  that  divine  which  made  us  what  we  are. 

And  yet  this  world,  this  microscopic  ball, 
This  cast-up  grain  of  sand  upon  the  shore, 

This  trivial  shred  and  atom  of  the  ALL, 
Is  still  our  Trust,  that  we  must  answer  for. 

A  lighthouse  in  the  Infinite,  with  lamps 
That  we  must  trim  and  feed  until  we  die; 

A  lonely  outpost  of  the  unseen  camps 

That  we  must  keep,  although  we  know  not  why. 

Maker  of  all !    Enough  that  Thou  hast  given 
This  tempered  mind,  this  brain  without  a  flaw, 

Enough  for  me  to  strive,  as  I  have  striven, 

To  make  them  serve  their  purpose  and  Thy  law.^ 


XL 

The  Bukden-Beaeer. 

The  Psalmist  employs  here  that  name  of  God  which  most 
strongly  expresses  the  idea  of  supremacy  and  dominion.  Eule 
and  dignity  are  the  predominant  ideas  in  the  word  "Lord,"  as, 
indeed,  the  English  reader  feels  in  hearing  it ;  and  then,  side  by 
side  with  that,  there  lies  the  thought  that  the  Highest,  the 
Kuler  of  all,  whose  absolute  authority  stretches  over  all  mankind, 
stoops  to  this  low  and  servile  office,  and  becomes  the  burden- 
bearer  for  all  the  pilgrims  who  put  their  trust  in  Him.  This 
blending  together  of  the  two  ideas  of  dignity  and  condescension  to 
lowly  offices  of  help  and  furtherance  is  made  even  more  emphatic 
if  we  glance  back  at  the  context  of  the  psalm.    For  there  is  no 

*  Ada  Cambridge,  The  Hand  in  the  Dark^  12. 


i88       THE  BURDEN-BEARING  GOD 


place  in  Scripture  in  which  there  is  flashed  before  the  mind  of 
the  singer  a  grander  picture  of  the  magnificence  and  the  glory  of 
God  than  that  which  glitters  and  flames  in  the  previous  verses. 
The  majestic  greatness  of  God  described  in  its  earlier  part  seems 
purposely  intended  to  heighten  our  sense  of  the  wonder  and 
blessedness  of  this  God  stooping  from  heaven  to  take  on  Himself 
the  burdens  which  rest  on  His  children  on  the  earth. 

And  if  we  look  deeper,  this  is  not  a  case  of  contrast.  It  is 
not  that  there  are  sharply  opposed  to  each  other  these  two 
things,  the  gentleness  and  the  greatness,  the  condescension  and 
the  magnificence,  but  that  the  former  is  the  direct  result  of  the 
latter ;  and  it  is  just  because  He  is  Lord,  and  has  dominion  over 
all,  that,  therefore,  He  bears  the  burdens  of  all.  For  the  responsi- 
bilities of  the  Creator  are  in  proportion  to  His  greatness,  and 
He  who  has  made  man  has  thereby  made  it  necessary  that  He 
should,  if  we  will  let  Him,  be  Burden-bearer  and  our  Servant. 
The  highest  must  be  the  lowest,  and  just  because  God  is  high 
over  all,  therefore  is  He  the  Supporter  and  Sustainer  of  all.  So 
we  may  learn  the  true  meaning  of  elevation  of  all  sorts,  and  from 
the  example  of  the  loftiest  may  draw  the  lesson  for  our  more 
insignificant  varieties  of  height,  that  the  higher  we  are,  the  more 
we  are  bound  to  stoop,  and  that  men  are  then  likest  God,  when 
their  elevation  suggests  to  them  responsibility,  and  when  he  that 
is  chiefest  becomes  the  servant. 

1.  God  takes  our  burdens  upon  Himself. — There  are  burdens 
that  men  can  help  us  with,  but  the  heaviest  burdens  are  those 
they  cannot  touch.  "The  heart  knoweth  its  own  bitterness." 
The  burden  of  a  hidden  grief,  of  a  besetting  sin,  of  a  lifelong 
trial  of  disease  or  of  sorrow  through  the  wrong-doing  of  others — 
men  may  not  help  much  here.  But  God  can  and  does  help.  He 
enters  into  the  very  life  of  those  whom  He  teaches  to  trust  Him. 
It  is  not  they  themselves  who  do  the  good  things  and  speak  the 
kind  words  and  think  the  holy  thoughts  that  go  to  the  upbuilding 
of  their  spiritual  house.  It  is  God.  He  "  worketh  in  you  both  to 
will  and  to  do  of  his  good  pleasure."  And  so  of  the  care  that  is 
cast  upon  Him.  He  bears  it  as  He  bears  the  sin.  He  is  in  the 
burdened  soul,  and  so,  though  the  outward  and  visible  trial  be 
unremoved,  yet  God  bears  it,  for  the  Divine  strength  is  in  the 


PSALM  Lxviii.  19 


heart.  God  infuses  His  own  power  into  the  soul,  until  the  down- 
ward pressure  is  no  longer  felt,  and  the  burden  is  known  to  be 
effectually  "  cast  upon  the  Lord." 

^  The  word  redemption,  all  the  past  which  it  implies,  all  the 
future  which  it  points  to,  has  for  me  a  wonderful  charm.  I 
cannot  separate  the  idea  of  deliverance  from  the  idea  of  God,  or 
ever  think  of  man  as  blessed  except  as  he  enters  into  God's  re- 
deeming purpose,  and  labours  to  make  others  free.  The  bondage 
of  circumstances,  of  the  world,  but  chiefly  of  self,  has  at  times 
seemed  to  me  quite  intolerable,  the  more  because  it  takes  away  all 
one's  energy  to  throw  it  off,  and  then  the  difficulty  of  escaping  to 
God !  of  asking  to  have  the  weight  taken  away !  Oh  there  is 
infinite  comfort  in  the  thought  that  He  hears  all  our  cries  for 
rescue,  and  is  Himself  the  Author  and  Finisher  of  it.^ 

2.  God's  help  is  continual. — He  daily  beareth  our  burden.  He 
will  not  suffer  us,  if  we  are  guided  by  His  teaching  and  Spirit,  to 
think  of  Him  as  simply  transcending  our  life,  living  above  it,  and 
out  of  it,  and  looking  on  it  as  from  a  distance ;  He  assures  us  that 
He  shares  it,  is  in  it,  and  through  and  over  and  under  all ;  in  it 
always ;  Himself  bearing  the  burdens  of  it,  not  now  and  again,  at 
far-separated  intervals  and  in  the  special  crises  of  our  experience ; 
but  "  daily "  — "  Blessed  be  the  Lord,  who  daily  beareth  our 
burden."  It  is  the  monotonous  daily  pressure  of  the  same  weight, 
in  the  same  wearying  way,  that  slays  the  hope  in  us  and  makes 
us  sigh  for  the  wings  of  a  dove  to  bear  us  away  to  some  place  of 
freedom  and  rest ;  and  it  is  exactly  that  "  daily "  hour-by-hour 
burden  God  Himself  carries  for  us,  and  with  us,  and  so  sustains 
us  and  trains  us.  Like  some  river  that  runs  by  the  wayside  and 
ever  cheers  the  traveller  on  the  dusty  path  with  its  music,  and 
offers  its  waters  to  cool  his  thirsty  lips,  so,  day  by  day,  in  the  slow 
iteration  of  our  lingering  sorrows,  and  in  the  monotonous  recur- 
rence of  our  habitual  duties,  there  is  with  us  the  ever-present  help 
of  the  Ancient  of  Days,  who  measures  out  daily  strength  for  the 
daily  load,  and  never  sends  the  one  without  proffering  the  other. 

^  In  feudal  times  the  peasantry  used  to  build  their  little 
cottages  beneath  the  shadow  of  their  lord's  castle-walls  so  that  in 
time  of  need  they  could  easily  take  refuge  within  the  stronghold, 
and  so  that  by  their  very  proximity  to  their  master's  dwelling  he 
might  be  reminded  that  they  cast  upon  him  the  burden  of  their 

*  Life  of  Frederick  Dcnison  Maurice,  i.  520. 


I90       THE  BURDEN-BEARING  GOD 


safe-keeping.  So  may  we  build  the  frail  house  of  life  beneath  the 
shadow  of  the  Almighty,  that  in  the  day  of  sore  need  we  may 
surely  find  the  way  into  the  secret  of  His  presence. 

Never  a  battle  with  wrong  for  the  right, 
Never  a  contest  that  He  doth  not  fight, 
Lifting  above  us  His  banner  so  white; 
Moment  by  moment  we're  kept  in  His  sight. 

Never  a  trial  and  He  is  not  there, 

Never  a  burden  that  He  doth  not  bear. 

Never  a  sorrow  that  He  doth  not  share. 

Moment  by  moment  we're  under  His  care.^ 

3.  God  hears  our  hurden  hy  sharing  it. — A  physical  burden  is 
one  thing,  a  spiritual  another,  and  there  is  no  such  literal  trans- 
ference in  the  moral  realm  as  to  make  the  spirit  oblivious  of  the 
existence  of  such  a  thing  as  a  burden  at  all.  But  in  this  they  are 
alike,  that  those  who  help  can  help  only  on  condition  of  them- 
selves undergoing  the  pressure  from  which  they  release  others. 
If  you  want  to  relieve  any  one  of  trouble,  you  must  bear  it  your- 
self. Only  s6  can  spiritual  release  be  secured.  You  give  blessing 
at  the  price  of  feeling  pain.  As  has  been  well  said,  "  There  is  no 
bearing  of  a  moral  burden  without  feeling  it  to  be  a  burden." 
And  if  God  bears  our  burdens,  then  the  pressure  and  the  pain  of 
them  become  His.  Our  trouble  becomes  His  trouble,  and  our 
sorrow  His  sorrow.    "  In  all  their  afflictions  he  was  afflicted." 

If  any  one  still  insist  that  it  seems  irreverence,  if  not 
blasphemy,  to  speak  of  a  suffering  God,  or  to  ascribe  in  any  way 
pain  or  unhappiness  to  the  Ever-Blessed,  then,  let  me  add,  it  may 
in  some  measure  meet  his  difficulty  to  reflect  that  all  moral 
Buffering  contains  or  carries  with  it  what  may  be  called  an  element 
of  compensation,  in  virtue  of  which  it  is  transmuted  into  a  deeper 
joy.  .  .  .  And  if  this  be  so,  then  surely  what  we  must  find  in 
Christ  as  the  God-man  is,  not  a  being  who  stript  or  emptied 
Himself  of  His  essential  divinity  in  order  to  share  in  the  weakness 
and  suffering  of  humanity,  but  a  manifestation  of  God  in  all  the 
plenitude  of  the  Divine  Nature ;  and  the  whole  life  of  the  Man 
of  Sorrows — His  earthly  lowliness.  His  mortal  weakness,  grief,  and 
sorrow,  His  loneliness  and  forsakenness,  His  drinking  of  the  cup 
of  suffering  to  the  very  dregs,  yea,  in  His  very  crucifixion  and 

1  P.  C.  AinsAvorth,  A  ITiomless  World,  159. 


PSALM  Lxviii.  19 


191 


death — must  be  to  us  the  disclosure  of  an  ineffable  joy  triumphing 
over  sorrow,  of  a  Divine  bliss  in  sacrifice  which  is  the  last,  highest 
revelation  of  the  nature  of  God.^ 

4.  It  is  not  the  lurden,  hut  the  hur den-hearer,  that  God  sustains. 
—It  is  not  the  heavy  sorrow,  but  the  bleeding  heart  that  He 
takes  into  His  strong  keeping.  And  here  we  may  notice  the 
significant  rendering  of  this  text  found  in  some  of  the  most 
ancient  versions :  "  Blessed  be  the  Lord,  who  daily  beareth  us." 
So  we  can  give  God  our  burden  only  by  giving  Him  our  life.  At 
this  point  the  figure  of  a  burden  fails  to  represent  accurately  the 
toil  and  trouble  of  life,  unless  we  remember  it  is  a  burden  that 
cannot  be  laid  down.  It  is  bound  to  our  shoulders  by  the  cords 
of  many  necessities.  Divine  and  human,  and  the  answer  to  our 
prayer  for  help  does  not  come  in  a  loosening  of  these  cords,  but  in 
inward  refreshment  of  spirit.  So  the  exhortation  to  us  to  cast 
our  burden  on  the  Lord  and  this  promise  of  His  sustaining  grace 
do  not  speak  to  us  of  an  occasional  expedient  to  which  the  more 
trying  experiences  of  life  may  drive  us,  but  of  the  true  relation  of 
our  life  to  God  day  by  day. 

TI  A  father  sitting  in  his  study,  sent  his  little  boy  upstairs  to 
fetch  a  book  that  had  been  forgotten.  The  boy  was  long  gone, 
and  after  a  time  the  father  thought  he  heard  the  sound  of  sobbing 
on  the  stairs.  He  went  out,  and  at  the  top  of  the  staircase  he 
saw  his  son  crying  bitterly,  with  the  great  book  he  had  tried  to 
lift  and  carried  so  far,  lying  at  his  feet.  "  Oh,  father !  "  the  lad 
cried,  "  I  cannot  carry  it,  it  is  too  heavy  for  me  !  "  In  a  moment 
the  father  ran  up  the  stairs,  and  stooping  down,  took  up  both  the 
little  lad  and  the  book  in  his  strong  arms,  and  carried  them  down 
to  the  room  below.  Before  he  reached  it,  the  child's  tears  were 
all  dried  up,  and  he  was  leaning  on  his  father's  arm,  the  burden 
and  the  trouble  gone.^ 

6.  When  God  thus  hears  our  hurden  the  hurden  itself  becomes  a 
Messing.— It  carries  him  that  carries  it.  It  is  like  the  wings  of  a 
bird;  it  is  like  the  sails  of  a  ship.  In  many  lands  the  habit 
prevails,  especially  amongst  the  women,  of  carrying  heavy  loads 
on  their  heads ;  and  all  travellers  tell  us  that  the  practice  gives  a 
dignity  and  a  grace  to  the  carriage,  and  a  freedom  and  a  swing  to 
the  gait,  which  nothing  else  will  do.    Depend  upon  it,  that  so 

1  John  Caird.  2  G.  S.  Barrett,  Musings  for  Quiet  Hours,  29. 


192       THE  BURDEN-BEARING  GOD 

much  of  our  burdens  of  work  and  weariness  as  is  left  to  us,  after 
we  have  cast  them  upon  Him,  is  intended  to  strengthen  and 
ennoble  us. 

11  The  bearing  of  God  has  been  likened  to  a  father  carrying  his 
child,  to  an  eagle  taking  her  young  upon  her  wings,  to  the  shepherd 
with  the  lamb  in  his  bosom.  But  no  shepherd,  nor  mother-bird, 
nor  human  father  ever  bore  as  the  Lord  bears.  For  He  bears  from 
within,  as  the  soul  lifts  and  bears  the  body.  The  Lord  and  His 
own  are  one.  "  To  me,"  says  he  who  knew  it  best,  "  to  me  to  live 
is  Christ."  ...  It  is  not  the  sight  of  a  visible  leader,  though  the 
Gospels  have  made  the  sight  imperishable,  it  is  not  the  sound  of 
Another's  Voice,  though  that  Voice  shall  peal  to  the  end  of  time, 
that  Christians  only  feel.  It  is  something  within  themselves; 
another  self — purer,  happier,  victorious.  Not  as  a  voice  or  example, 
futile  enough  to  the  dying,  but  as  a  new  soul,  is  Christ  in  men.^ 

^  The  hindrances  that  baffle  or  overwhelm  us,  the  small 
annoyances  that  rob  our  days  of  zest  and  sweetness,  the  body's 
perpetual  chafing  tyranny,  in  all  these  we  are  facing  universal 
conditions,  and  bidden  to  realize  a  universal  being.  An  infinit- 
esimal fraction  of  the  burden  that  God  bears  is  on  our  shoulders 
— but  we  are  not  bearing  it  alone.  This  spiritual  toil  is  no 
degrading  punishment  laid  on  us  merely  for  our  sins,  but  the 
measure  of  our  sonship.  Infinite  patience  seems  often  to  be  all 
that  is  asked  of  us.  But  patience  is  Godlike — patience  is  love 
submitting,  and  enduring,  transmuting  poison  to  sweetness  in  the 
life,  as  surely  as  enthusiasm  is  love  conquering  and  striving,  and 
flowing  out  towards  God  and  man.  Nor  can  we  draw  distinctions 
concerning  their  relative  value  to  God.^ 

The  bonds  that  press  and  fetter, 
That  chafe  the  soul  and  fret  her, 
What  man  can  know  them  better, 
0  brother  men,  than  I  ? 

And  yet,  my  burden  bearing. 
The  five  wounds  ever  wearing, — 
I  too  in  my  despairing 

Have  seen  Him  as  I  say; — 
Gross  darkness  all  around  Him 
Enwrapt  Him  and  enwound  Him, — 
0  late  at  night  I  found  Him 

And  lost  Him  in  the  day! 

*  George  Adam  Smith.  *  May  Kendall. 


PSALM  Lxviii.  19 


193 


Yet  bolder  grown  and  braver 
At  sight  of  one  to  save  her 
My  soul  no  more  shall  waver, 

With  wings  no  longer  furled, — 
But  cut  with  one  decision 
From  doubt  and  men's  derision 
That  sweet  and  vanished  vision 

Shall  follow  thro'  the  worlds 

^  F.  W.  H.  Myers,  A  Vision. 


PS.  xxv.-cxix. — 13 


Sun  and  a  Shield. 


19J 


Literature. 


Davies  (D.),  Talhs  with  Men,  Women  and  Children,  v.  145. 
Foxell  (W.  J.),  God's  Garden,  142. 

Kirkpatrick  (A.  F.),  The  Boole  of  Psalms  (Cambridge  Bible),  509. 

Maclaren  (A,),  The  Book  of  Psalms  (Expositor's  Bible),  ii.  449. 

Morrison  (G.  H.),  The  Unlighted  Lustre,  65. 

Peabody  (F.  G.),  Mornings  in  the  College  Chapel,  ii.  127. 

Pearce  (J.),  l%e  Alabaster  Box,  96. 

Pearse  (M.  G.),  The  God  of  Our  Pleasures,  49. 

Spurgeon  (C.   H.),    Metropolitan    Tabernacle  Pulpit,  xxviii.  (1882)- 
No.  1G59. 

Voysey  (C.),  Sermons,  xi.  (1888),  No.  20. 

Wiseman  (N.),  Children's  Sermons,  36. 

Christian  World  Pulpit,  xxiv.  332  (H.  W.  Beecher). 


196 


A  Sun  and  a  Shield. 

The  Lord  God  is  a  sun  and  a  shield.—Ps.  Ixxxiv.  ii. 

An  ancient  legend  tells  that  Abraham,  in  his  untaught  devoutness 
and  yearning  reverence,  took  the  sun  for  his  God  until  he  observed 
the  setting  of  its  beams  in  the  west.  In  the  absence  of  authentic 
revelation,  it  is  no  more  strange  that  reflective  and  reverential 
minds  should  exclaim,  in  the  presence  of  a  world  of  light  "  The 
sun  is  our  God,"  than  that  the  Heaven-instructed  Hebrew  singer 
dwellmg  in  the  light  of  God's  countenance,  should  declare,  "  The 
Lord  God  is  a  sun  " ;  for  a  more  fitting  material  symbol  of  God  than 
the  sun  It  would  be  difficult  to  find,  whether  we  consider  the 
vastness  of  it,  the  glory  of  it,  or  the  beneficence  of  it.  Hidden  by 
Its  very  glory !  So  far  off,  yet  finding  out  our  distant  world  and 
bathing  It  m  its  genial  warmth,  breathing  about  it  a  new  hope  ' 
So  mighty,  yet  so  gentle!  Stooping  not  only  to  the  lowest  and 
least  forms  of  life,  but  ministering  to  its  hidden  and  shapeless 
beginnings. 

Could  there  be  a  more  felicitous  and  apposite  representation  of 
Him  of  whom  an  Apostle  wrote :  God  is  light,  and  in  him  is  no 
darkness  at  all"  ?  As  the  sun  opens  the  gates  of  day,  floods  the 
world  with  light,  gives  it  without  stint  to  palace  or  cottage  to 
peasant  and  prince,  and  enables  us  to  discern  a  thousand  plelsing 
objects,  so  God  shines  into  our  lives  and  gives  us  power  to  see 
a  thousand  moral  glories.  The  secret  of  seeing  is  not  in  us  God 
IS  the  great  revealer.  We  are  the  organs  favoured  with  the  holy 
visions.  We  can  see  only  what  He  is  pleased  to  show  us  But 
He  IS  not  slow  to  reveal  Himself  to  our  understanding  nor  is 
the  hght  madequate.  No  nook  or  corner  of  our  being  need  go 
unirradiated.  If  we  open  the  life  to  God  as  we  open  the  eye  to 
the  sun,  we  shall  no  longer  be  children  of  the  darkness  "  For  God 
who  commanded  the  light  to  shine  out  of  darkness,  hath  shined 
in  our  hearts,  to  give  the  light  of  the  knowledge  of  the  glory  of 
jod  in  the  face  of  Jesus  Christ." 


197 


198 


A  SUN  AND  A  SHIELD 


If  Nowhere  else  in  the  Old  Testament  is  Jehovah  directly- 
called  a  sun,  though  the  ideas  conveyed  by  the  metaphor  are 
frequent.  Cp.  Ps.  xxvii.  i;  Isa.  x.  17,  Ix.  19,  20;  Mai.  iv.  2. 
Perhaps  the  prevalence  of  sun-worship  in  the  East  led  to  the 
avoidance  of  so  natural  and  significant  a  metaphor.  Even  here 
the  oldest  Versions  either  had  a  different  reading  or  shrank  from 
a  literal  rendering.  The  LXX  and  Theodotion  have :  "  Eor  the 
Lord  God  loveth  mercy  and  truth."  The  Targ.  paraphrases :  "  For 
the  Lord  God  is  like  a  high  wall  and  a  strong  shield,"  reading 
shemesh  (=sun),  but  taking  it  in  the  sense  of  "battlement" 
(E.V.  "pinnacles"),  which  it  has  in  Isa.  liv.  12.  The  Syr.  gives: 
"  Our  sustainer  and  our  helper."  Only  the  later  Greek  Versions 
render  the  Massoretic  text  literally.^ 

^  In  his  Hibbert  Lectures  on  the  Keligion  of  the  Babylonians 
Professor  Sayce  quotes  a  hymn  to  Samas  the  Sun-god,  beginning : 

0  Sun-god,  king  of  heaven  and  earth,  director  of  things  above 
and  below, 

0  Sun-god,  thou  that  clothest  the  dead  with  life,  delivered  by 

thy  hands, 
Judge  unbribed,  director  of  mankind, 

Supreme  is  the  mercy  of  him  who  is  the  lord  over  difficulty, 
Bidding  the  child  and  offspring  come  forth,  light  of  the  world. 
Creator  of  all  thy  universe,  the  Sun-god  art  thou. 

^  Another  time  Napoleon  breaks  out  [in  conversation  with 
Gourgaud] :  "  Were  I  obliged  to  have  a  religion,  I  would  worship 
the  sun — the  source  of  all  life — the  real  God  of  the  earth."  2 

I  heard  a  Saint  cry  to  the  Sun — "Be  dim. 
Why  shouldst  thou  rule  on  high  with  boastful  ray, 
Till  fools  adore  thee  as  the  God  of  Day, 
Bobbing  thy  Master's  honour  due  to  Him  ? " 
But  the  sun-spirit,  thro'  each  radiant  limb 
Translucent  as  a  living  ember  coal, 
Glowed.    At  the  anger  of  the  seraph  soul 
His  golden  orb  trembled  from  boss  to  rim. 

Then  made  he  answer  as  a  dove  that  sings, 
"God's  glory  is  my  glory,  and  my  praise 
Only  His  praising.    They,  who  kneel  to  me,  ^ 
See  thro'  the  waving  of  my  orient  wings 
A  choir  of  stars  with  voices  like  the  sea,  '> 
Singing  hosanna  in  the  heavenly  ways."^  ^ 

I 

'  A.  F.  Kirkpatrick,  The  Book  of  Psalms,  509. 

2  Lord  Rosebery,  Napoleon:  The  Last  Phase,  171.  '  Lord  De  Table j. 


PSALM  Lxxxiv.  II 


199 


I. 

God  is  a  Sun. 

1.  The  sun  is  the  centre  of  power  in  the  system  where  it 
stands.  There  is  nothing  that  can  hold  out  against  it.  All 
planets  are  obliged  to  own  their  allegiance  to  it.  They  march 
to  its  music.  They  cannot  wander  or  get  out  of  the  path  which 
its  power  prescribes  for  them.  The  sun  is  the  governor  of  the 
planetary  kingdom — central,  uncontradicted,  un wasting,  unex- 
hausted and  inexhaustible,  steadfast,  going  forth  for  ever  and  for 
ever.  So  there  is  a  sublime  centre  in  that  higher  creation,  in 
conscious  human  life.  In  the  realm  of  intelligence,  in  the  realm 
of  righteousness  or  morality,  in  the  great  superior  realm  of  mind, 
there  is  a  central  power.  Amidst  all  the  apparent  detonations 
and  explosions  and  miscarriages  of  minor  human  life  upon  this 
sphere  there  is,  nevertheless,  a  great  central  influence  that  is 
holding  mankind  to  their  career,  to  their  general  orbit.  The 
government  of  God  in  its  extensiveness,  in  its  patient  persever- 
ance, in  its  power  universal,  could  not  be  more  fitly  represented 
than  by  this  symbolization  of  the  sun  itself.  The  universality  of 
God  —  "omnipresence,"  as  it  is  called  —  is  a  thing  somewhat 
difficult  to  be  understood,  as  all  things  that  reach  toward  or  are 
born  of  the  infinite  are  to  finite  intelligence;  nevertheless,  the 
outreaching  of  the  sun  is  everywhere.  Both  of  the  poles  recognize 
its  presence.  The  equator  never  abandons  the  light  and  warmth 
of  the  sun.  Wherever  the  earth  and  all  its  luminaries  may  travel, 
and  wherever  the  satellites  of  the  sun  may  go,  there  is  its  power. 
There  is  no  thunder,  no  utterance  in  it.  It  is  silent,  but  it  is 
there. 

H  Fenelon  had  many  friends  affectionately  attached  to  him,  in 
Versailles,  Paris,  and  other  parts  of  France ;  but  in  his  banishment 
he  saw  them  but  very  seldom.  Many  of  them  were  persons  of 
eminent  piety.  "  Let  us  all  dwell,"  he  says  in  one  of  his  letters, 
"  in  our  only  Centre,  where  we  continually  meet,  and  are  all  one 
and  the  same  thing.  We  are  very  near,  though  we  see  not  one 
another;  whereas  others,  who  even  live  in  the  same  house,  yet 
live  at  a  great  distance.  God  reunites  all,  and  brings  together  the 
remotest  points  of  distance  in  the  hearts  that  are  united  to  Him. 


200 


A  SUN  AND  A  SHIELD 


I  am  for  nothing  but  unity ;  that  unity  which  binds  all  the  parts 
to  the  centre.  That  which  is  not  in  unity  is  in  separation ;  and 
separation  implies  a  plurality  of  interests,  self  in  each  too  much 
fondled.  When  self  is  destroyed,  the  soul  reunites  in  God ;  those 
who  are  united  in  God  are  not  far  from  each  other.  This  is  the 
consolation  which  I  have  in  your  absence,  and  which  enables  me 
to  bear  this  affliction  patiently,  however  long  it  may  continue."  ^ 

2.  Another  idea  is  suggested  by  the  sun.  Many  of  us  have 
been  oppressed  by  the  thought  of  a  distant  God ;  we  sometimes 
have  thought  of  Him  as  far  away,  as  having  His  throne  in  the 
remote  heaven  of  heavens.  But  if  the  sun  can  have  its  being 
ninety  million  miles  away,  and  yet  can  fall  with  such  power  as  to 
heat  a  continent,  and  with  such  exquisite  nicety  as  to  make  the 
rosebud  redden,  why  should  it  seem  a  thing  incredible  to  us  that 
the  Creator  who  fashioned  that  glorious  lamp  should  dwell  apart 
immeasurably  far,  yet  touch  and  turn  and  bless  and  save 
humanity  ?  He  takes  up  the  isles  as  a  very  little  thing — the 
nations  before  Him  are  as  nothing.  Yet  He  knows  the  way  that 
I  take ;  He  understands  my  thought ;  He  will  not  quench  the 
smoking  flax  nor  break  the  bruised  reed.  Powerful,  yet  very  far 
away ;  thoughtful  and  tender,  though  hidden  in  the  distance. 

^  God  is  the  God  of  all,  and  yet  He  is  my  God.  At  the  same 
moment  He  pervades  heaven  and  earth,  takes  charge  of  the 
sustenance,  progress,  and  growing  happiness  of  the  unbounded 
creation,  and  He  is  present  with  me,  as  intent  upon  my  character, 
actions,  wants,  trials,  joys,  and  hopes,  as  if  I  were  the  sole  object 
of  His  love.2 

3.  God  is  a  sun:  that  is  infinity  of  blessing.  No  man 
among  us  can  conceive  the  measure  of  the  light  and  heat  of  the 
sun.  They  are  beyond  conception  great.  Light  and  heat  have 
been  continually  streaming  forth  throughout  many  ages,  yet  all 
that  has  come  forth  of  it  is  far  less  than  that  which  still  remains. 
For  all  practical  purposes  the  light  and  heat  of  the  sun  are 
infinite ;  and  certainly  in  God  all  blessedness  is  absolutely  infinite. 
There  is  no  measuring  it.  We  are  lost.  We  can  only  say,  "  Oh, 
the  depths  of  the  love  and  goodness  of  God  ! "  In  being  heirs  of 
God  we  possess  all  in  all.  There  is  no  bound  to  our  blessedness 
in  God.    Further,  if  God  be  called  a  sun,  it  is  to  let  us  know 

^  T.  G.  Upham,  Life  of  Madame  Guyon,  455.  ^  W.  E.  Chaiiniiig. 


J 


PSALM  Lxxxiv.  II 


20I 


that  we  have  obtained  an  immutability  of  blessedness,  for  He  is 
"  the  Father  of  lights  with  whom  is  no  variableness,  neither 
shadow  of  turning."  God  is  not  love  to-day  and  hate  to-morrow  ; 
He  saith,  "  I  am  God,  I  change  not."  There  are  said  to  be  spots 
in  the  sun  which  diminish  the  light  and  heat  which  we  receive ; 
but  there  are  no  such  spots  in  God;  He  shines  on  with  the 
boundless  fulness  of  His  infinite  love  toward  His  people  in  Christ 
Jesus.  "  This  God  is  our  God  for  ever  and  ever."  If  we  were  to 
live  as  long  as  Methuselah,  we  should  find  His  love  and  power 
and  wisdom  to  be  the  same,  and  we  might  confidently  count  upon 
being  blessed  thereby.  What  treasures  of  mercy  do  we  possess  in 
being  able  to  say,  "  0  God,  thou  art  my  God " !  We  have  the 
source  of  mercy,  the  infinity  of  mercy,  and  the  immutability  of 
mercy  to  be  our  own. 

^  What  is  the  glory  of  the  sun  ?  Is  it  its  power,  its  energy, 
or  is  it  not  the  way  in  which  it  finds  out  things  one  by  one  and 
gives  itself  away  to  them  ?  I  have  watched  the  sun  rising  amidst 
the  mountains,  crowning  them  with  gold  and  robing  them  with 
purple,  until  they  stood  like  lords-in-waiting  arrayed  for  the 
coming  of  their  king,  and  it  has  seemed  in  keeping  with  the  sun's 
greatness.  But  little  by  little  it  rose  higher,  and  now  it  covered 
the  fir  trees  with  glory,  and  now  it  lit  up  the  moss  of  the  rock. 
Still  higher  rose  the  sun,  and  then  it  reached  the  meadows,  and 
every  tiny  grass  blade  caught  its  warmth  and  energy,  and  every 
flower  had  its  golden  cup  filled  to  the  brim.  And  lower  still  it 
went  down,  to  the  seeds  that  were  buried  in  darkness,  and 
whispered  to  them  of  hope,  and  put  new  strength  into  them. 
Think  if  I  could  tell  the  tiny  flower  how  far  off  the  sun  is,  how 
many  myriads  of  miles  away,  how  great  it  is,  how  splendid  in  its 
majesty.  "  Surely,"  the  flower  would  say,  "  it  can  never  stoop  to 
me,  or  find  me  out,  or  care  for  me,  or  minister  to  my  want ! " 
Ah,  but  it  does  ;  it  gives  itself  to  the  flower  with  such  tenderness 
and  thoroughness  as  if  there  were  not  another  in  the  round  world. 
Surely  this  is  the  glory  of  our  God.  We  think  of  Him  in  the 
greatness  of  His  power.  We  sing  of  Him,  "  Who  is  like  unto 
thee  .  .  .  glorious  in  holiness,  fearful  in  praises,  doing  wonders  ? " 
But  is  not  this  His  glory,  that  He  comes  to  us  away  by  ourselves, 
one  by  one,  and  gives  Himself  to  us  separately,  stooping  to  the 
lowest,  reaching  to  the  farthest  off,  finding  out  the  most  hidden  ? 
The  sun  is  not  going  to  put  to  shame  the  ingenuity  of  our 
Father's  love.^ 

^  M.  G.  Pearse,  The  God  of  our  Pleasures,  56. 


202 


A  SUN  AND  A  SHIELD 


\>  Behold  the  sun,  that  seemed  but  now 

Enthroned  overhead, 
Begmning  to  decline  below 

The  globe  whereon  we  tread ; 
And  he,  whom  yet  we  look  upon 

With  comfort  and  delight, 
Will  quite  depart  from  hence  anon, 

And  leave  us  to  the  night. 

Thus  time,  unheeded,  steals  away 

The  life  which  nature  gave ; 
Thus  are  our  bodies  every  day 

Declining  to  the  grave ; 
Thus  from  us  all  our  pleasures  fly 

Whereon  we  set  our  heart; 
And  when  the  night  of  death  draws  nigh 

Thus  will  they  all  depart. 

Lord !  though  the  sun  forsake  our  sight, 

And  mortal  hopes  are  vain. 
Let  still  Thine  everlasting  light 

Within  our  souls  remain  ; 
And  in  the  nights  of  our  distress 

Vouchsafe  those  rays  divine. 
Which  from  the  Sun  of  Kighteousness 

For  ever  brightly  shine !  ^ 

4.  Without  a  favourable  medium  and  a  suitable  object,  the 
sunlight  can  do  little.  All  the  sunlight  of  all  time  cannot 
illumine  a  man  who  is  blind.  The  suns  of  all  the  seasons  can 
avail  nothing  for  the  dead.  There  must  be  the  faculty  to  receive 
the  light  and  to  respond  to  it.  The  sun  cannot  give  life,  it  can 
only  develop  it.  It  cannot  transform  the  nature.  But  He  who 
is  the  Light  of  the  World  is  also  the  Lord  and  Giver  of  life.  See 
Him  by  whom  grace  and  truth  come  to  us.  See  Him  as  He 
bends  over  the  couch  of  the  dead  maiden,  and,  taking  her  by  the 
hand,  says,  "  Maiden,  arise."  See  Him  as  He  lays  those  fingers 
on  the  blind  man's  eyes  and  says,  "  Be  opened."  In  Him  the 
blessed  grace  of  forgiveness  is  ours.  His  coming  is  in  relation  to 
our  sins — His  very  name  is  Jesus,  for  He  shall  save  His  people 
from  their  sins.    "  The  wages  of  sin  is  death ;  but  the  gift  of  God 

1  George  "Wither. 


PSALM  Lxxxiv.  II 


is  eternal  life  through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord."  He  gives  to  us  a 
new  nature  whose  instinct  it  is  to  know  God  and  to  serve  Him. 
He  will  give  grace.  And  we  have  to  receive  that  grace,  and  avail 
ourselves  of  it.  The  golden  sun  shall  in  vain  pour  its  beauty 
where  the  plough  has  not  turned  the  furrow  and  the  seed-corn 
has  not  been  flung.  Man's  work  is  to  avail  himself  of  the  sun 
and  to  adapt  himself  to  its  times  and  seasons.  And  even  so  it  is 
with  God's  grace.  It  cannot  avail  him  anything  who  does  not 
receive  it  and  respond  to  it.  "  As  many  as  received  him,  to  them 
gave  he  power  to  become  the  sons  of  God." 

;  ^  Eichard  Jefferies  is  closely  akin  to  Wordsworth  in  his  over- 
powering consciousness  of  the  life  in  nature.  This  consciousness 
is  the  strongest  force  in  him,  so  that  at  times  he  is  almost  sub- 
merged by  it,  and  he  loses  the  sense  of  outward  things.  In  this 
condition  of  trance  the  sense  of  time  vanishes ;  there  is,  he  asserts, 
no  such  thing,  no  past,  or  future,  only  now,  which  is  eternity.  In 
The  Story  of  my  Hearty  a  rhapsody  of  mystic  experience  and 
aspiration,  he  describes  in  detail  several  such  moments  of  exalta- 
tion or  trance.  He  seems  to  be  peculiarly  sensitive  to  sunshine. 
As  the  moon  typifies  to  Keats  the  eternal  essence  in  all  things,  so 
to  Jefferies  the  sun  seems  to  be  the  physical  expression  or  symbol 
of  the  central  Force  of  the  world,  and  it  is  through  gazing  on  sun- 
light that  he  most  often  enters  into  the  trance  state.^ 

\  Francis  Thompson  in  his  "  Orient  Ode "  seems  to  worship 
the  Sun,  but  it  is  because  he  finds  Christ  in  that  symbol : 

Lo,  of  thy  Magians  I  the  least 

Haste  with  my  gold,  my  incenses  and  myrrhs, 

To  thy  desired  epiphany,  from  the  spiced 

Eegions  and  odorous  of  Song's  traded  East. 

Thou,  for  the  life  of  all  that  live 

The  victim  daily  born  and  sacrificed; 

To  whom  the  pinion  of  this  longing  verse 

Beats  but  with  fire  which  first  thyself  did  give, 

To  thee,  0  Sun — or  is't,  perchance,  to  Christ  ?2 

V  5.  The  heat  and  light  of  the  sun  come  to  this  world  through 
the  surrounding  atmosphere.  Without  the  envelope  of  closely 
clinging  air  that  engirdles  this  globe  like  some  diaphanous  gar- 
ment, the  heat  of  the  sun  and  all  the  light  of  it  would  fall  in- 

*  C.  F.  E.  Spurgeon,  Mysticism,  in  English  Literature,  68. 
2  E.  Meynell,  The  Life  of  Francis  Thompson  (1913),  210. 


204 


A  SUN  AND  A  SHIELD 


effectually  on  the  earth.  When  we  climb  a  mountain  we  get 
nearer  the  sun ;  would  one  not  naturally  think  that  it  ought  to 
get  hotter  there  ?  As  a  matter  of  fact  it  gets  colder  as  we  rise 
till  we  reach  the  peaks  that  are  robed  with  perpetual  snow.  The 
reason  is  that  we  are  piercing  through  that  air  which  wraps  and 
enwraps  this  little  earth  of  ours.  It  is  the  atmosphere  that 
mediates  the  sun,  that  catches  and  stores  and  distributes  the  heat. 
Were  there  no  air,  but  only  empty  space,  then  the  greenest 
valley  would  be  like  Mont  Blanc,  and  the  tropics  would  be  ice- 
bound in  a  perpetual  winter,  though  the  sun  in  itself  were  as 
fiery-hot  as  ever. 

May  we  not  make  use  of  this  mystery  of  nature  to  illumin- 
ate a  kindred  mystery  of  grace  ?  It  is  one  of  the  ways  of 
God  to  grant  His  blessings  through  an  intermediary.  You  say 
that  the  sun  is  the  source  of  heat  and  light ;  why  then  should 
anything  be  intruded  between  earth  and  sun  ?  One  can  only 
answer.  So  the  Creator  works — without  that  mediating  element 
all  is  lost.  You  say  that  God  is  the  source  of  love  and  blessing ; 
why  should  anj^thing  intervene  betwixt  God  and  man  ?  One  can 
only  answer  that  it  is  the  way  of  heaven  to  grant  its  richest 
blessing  through  a  mediator.  How  often  men  and  women  have 
said,  "  I  do  not  feel  any  need  of  Clirist  or  Calvary.  I  beheve  in 
God,  I  reverence  and  worship  God;  but  the  sacrifice  and  the 
atonement  just  confuse  me.  They  appear  to  be  outside  of  me 
altogether ;  I  cannot  make  them  real  to  my  heart."  But  through 
every  sphere  of  God's  activity  runs  the  great  principle  of  media- 
tion. The  presence  of  Christ  is  like  the  air,  making  available  for 
our  need  the  love  of  God.  Eemove  the  atmosphere,  and  the  sun 
will  still  shine  in  heaven.  Take  away  Jesus,  and  God  will  still  be 
love.  Banish  the  air,  and  the  sun  will  not  lose  its  heat.  Banish 
the  Christ,  and  God  will  not  lose  His  power.  But  with  the  air 
gone,  the  glory  of  the  sun  will  never  so  fall  as  to  bless  our  little 
world,  and  with  Jesus  banished,  the  mercy  and  love  of  God  may 
stream  on  other  realms  but  not  on  ours.  Christ  is  the  mediator 
of  the  better  covenant.  He  stands — the  vital  breath — 'twixt 
God  and  us.  Through  Him  the  sunshine  of  heaven's  love  can 
reach  us,  and  in  the  rays  of  that  sunshine  we  are  blessed. 

^  What  was  said  with  truth  of  Bishop  Fraser  of  Manchester 
was,  in  a  less  direct  and  practical  way,  true  of  Stanley :  "  He  was 


PSALM  Lxxxiv.  II 


205 


daily  bringing  down  light  from  Heaven  into  the  life  of  other 
people."  No  one  could  long  come  in  contact  with  Stanley 
without  feeling  that  he  was  walking  in  the  light,  and  without 
being  affected  by  its  radiation.  It  was  this  background  that  gave 
dignity  to  his  simplicity  of  character,  that  preserved  the  spiritual 
elements  of  his  nature  from  materialism,  that  gilded  his  social 
intercourse  with  a  tenderness,  an  unobtrusiveness,  a  sincerity,  an 
evenness  of  temper,  and  a  consideration  for  others,  that  permeated, 
purified,  and  strengthened  the  society  in  which  he  moved.^ 

11. 

God  is  a  Shield. 

To  the  Psalmist  God  was  not  only  a  Sun  radiating  forth  good 
but  also  a  Shield  protecting  from  evil — the  source  not  only  of  life 
and  joy  but  also  of  security.  As  the  Sun,  God  may  be  considered 
as  dwelling  in  inaccessible  light ;  whilst  as  a  Shield  He  may  be 
regarded  as  so  protecting  His  people  that  they  cannot  be 
approached.  Life  may  be  looked  upon  as  a  battle-field,  on  which 
we.  have  protection  from  God,  if  we  are  on  His  side ;  for  the  battle  is 
His.  By  the  figure  of  a  shield,  this  verse  is  connected  with  ver.  9  : 
"  Behold,  0  God  our  shield,  and  look  upon  the  face  of  thine  anointed." 

^  The  ancient  warrior  bore  strapped  on  his  arm  a  shield 
of  brass  or  of  wood  covered  with  leather,  armed  with  which  he 
rushed  into  battle  and  turned  death  aside.  In  modern  warfare 
the  shield  is  quite  unserviceable ;  it  hangs  with  bows  and  arrows 
in  the  museum  of  ancient  armour.  But,  as  Parker  says,  "  No  word 
ever  becomes  obsolete  which  has  once  deeply  touched  the  heart 
of  humanity.  The  shield  will  always  be  a  weapon  of  spiritual 
warfare ;  God  will  never  cease  to  be  a  shield  to  all  them  that  trust 
in  Him."  The  believer's  defence  is  complete ;  before  and  behind, 
on  the  right  hand  and  on  the  left,  he  is  beset  by  the  protective 
power  of  God.  This  was  a  favourite  thought  of  Luther's,  whose 
famous  spiritual  battle-song  opens  with  the  words : 

A  safe  stronghold  our  God  is  still, 
A  trusty  shield  and  weapon. 

"What  will  you  do,"  Luther  was  asked,  ''if  the  Duke,  your 
protector,  should  no  longer  harbour  you  ? "    "  I  will  take  my 
shelter,"  he  answered,  "  under  the  broad  shield  of  Almighty  God," 
*  R.  E.  Prothero,  Life  of  Dean  Stanley,  ii.  23. 


206 


A  SUN  AND  A  SHIELD 


Modern  nations,  with  their  immense  armies  and  fleets,  are  apt 
to  forget  how  insecure  they  are  without  that  Divine  protection. 
Toolish  are  they  if  they  "  put  their  trust  in  reeking  tube  and  iron 
shard."  He  who  spread  His  shield  over  Abraham  and  his  little 
Hebrew  army  must  equally  be  the  "  Lord  of  the  far-flung  battle 
line."  He  is  the  ultimate  safeguard  of  all  national  greatness,  and 
no  weapon  formed  against  Him  shall  prosper.^ 

1.  The  Lord  is  to  us  first  a  sun  and  then  a  shield.  Eemember 
how  David  puts  it  elsewhere:  "The  Lord  is  my  light  and  my 
salvation."  Light  first,  salvation  next.  He  does  not  save  us  in 
the  dark,  neither  does  he  shield  us  in  the  dark.  He  gives  enough 
sunlight  to  let  us  see  the  danger  so  that  we  may  appreciate  the 
defence.  We  are  not  to  shut  our  eyes  and  so  find  safety,  but  we 
are  to  see  the  evil  and  hide  ourselves.  Ought  we  not  to  be  very 
grateful  to  God  that  He  so  orders  our  affairs  ?  Ours  is  not  a 
blind  faith,  receiving  an  unknown  salvation  from  evils  which  are 
unperceived ;  this  w^ould  be  a  poor  form  of  life  at  best.  No,  the 
favour  received  is  valued  because  its  necessity  is  perceived.  The 
heavenly  Sun  lights  up  our  souls,  and  makes  us  see  our  ruin  and 
lie  down  in  the  dust  of  self-despair;  and  then  it  is  that  grace 
brings  forth  the  shield  which  covers  us,  so  that  we  are  no  more 
afraid,  but  rejoice  in  the  glorious  Lord  as  the  God  of  our  salvation. 

^  Most  people  in  their  religious  experience  think  of  God  as 
a  shield.  He  stands  between  them  and  the  storm.  They  hide 
beneath  the  shadow  of  His  wings.  It  is  the  religion  of  special 
Providence  and  of  Divine  interposition.  God  shields  His  people 
from  the  burning  heat.  Keligion  is  a  protective  system — a  very 
present  help  in  time  of  trouble.  Some  people,  on  the  other  hand, 
think  of  God  as  a  sun.  When  all  is  bright  and  cloudless,  then  they 
can  believe,  but  when  it  storms,  then  the  universe  seems  God- 
less. When  God  is  in  heaven,  all's  right  with  the  world.  I 
remember  a  comfortable  and  church -going  citizen  who  was  over- 
taken by  a  great  domestic  sorrow,  and  said  of  it,  "  It  never 
occurred  to  me  that  such  a  thing  could  happen."  He  had  grown 
so  in  the  habit  of  living  in  the  sunshine  that  he  was  as  helpless 
as  a  child  in  the  dark.^ 

2.  Look  at  the  text  in  another  way.  When  the  sun  shines 
upon  a  man  he  is  made  the  more  conspicuous  by  it.  Suppose  a 
hostile  army  to  be  down  in  the  plain,  and  a  soldier  in  our  ranks  is 

1  J.  Strachan,  Hebrew  Ideals,  i.  74.  «  F.  G.  Peabodj. 


PSALM  Lxxxiv.  II 


207 


sent  upon  some  errand  by  his  captain.  He  must  pass  along  the 
hillside.  The  sun  shines  upon  him  as  he  tries  to  make  his  way 
among  the  rocks  and  trees.  Had  it  been  night  he  could  have 
moved  safely,  but  now  we  fear  that  the  enemy  will  surely  pick 
him  off;  for  the  sunshine  has  made  him  conspicuous.  He  will 
have  need  to  be  shielded  from  the  many  cruel  eyes.  Christian 
men  are  made  conspicuous  by  the  very  fact  of  their  possessing 
God's  grace.  "  Ye  are  the  light  of  the  world,"  and  a  light  must  be 
seen.  *'  A  city  set  on  a  hill  cannot  be  hid."  If  God  gives  light, 
He  means  that  light  to  be  seen  ;  and  the  more  light  He  gives  us 
the  more  conspicuous  we  shall  be.  He  is  our  sun,  and  He  shines 
upon  us ;  we  reflect  His  light,  and  so  become  ourselves  a  light ; 
and  in  doing  so  we  run  necessary  risks.  The  more  brightly  we 
shine  the  more  will  Satan  and  the  world  try  to  quench  our  light. 
This,  then,  is  our  comfort.  The  Lord  God,  who  is  a  sun  to  us,  will 
also  be  a  shield  to  us.  Did  He  not  say  to  Abraham,  "  Fear  not, 
Abram  :  I  am  thy  shield,  and  thy  exceeding  great  reward  "  ? 

If  By  the  term  shield  is  meant  that  our  salvation,  which  would 
otherwise  be  perilled  by  countless  dangers,  is  in  perfect  safety 
under  God's  protection.  The  favour  of  God  in  communicating  life 
to  us  would  be  far  from  adequate  to  the  exigencies  of  our  condi- 
tion, unless  at  the  same  time,  in  the  midst  of  so  many  dangers,  He 
interposed  His  power  as  a  buckler  to  defend  us.^ 

^  Grove  mentioned  that  at  some  period  when  Havana  was 
under  martial  law,  a  man  had  been  killed  in  a  row  in  the  street. 
Everybody  ran  away  except  an  Englishman,  who,  having  nothing 
to  do  with  the  murder,  thought  there  was  no  occasion  to  do  so, 
and  was,  of  course,  immediately  arrested.  Some  one  naturally 
was  found  to  swear  that  he  was  the  culprit,  and  he  was  sentenced 
to  be  shot  next  morning.  The  English  Consul  (Mr.  Crawford), 
hearing  what  was  going  on,  went  in  full  uniform  to  the  place  of 
execution  and  claimed  the  man  as  a  British  subject.  The  officer 
in  charge  of  the  firing  party  showed  his  orders,  and  said  he  could 
not  give  him  up.  "  Very  well,"  said  Mr.  Crawford,  "  at  least  you 
will  not  object  to  my  shaking  hands  with  him  before  he  is  shot  ? " 
"  By  no  means,"  was  the  answer.  He  then  walked  up,  whipped 
the  Union  Jack  out  of  his  pocket  and  threw  it  round  the  man. 
"  Now,"  he  said  to  the  officer,  "  shoot  if  you  dare."  The  officer 
applied  for  instructions  to  the  Governor,  and  the  prisoner's 
innocence  was  soon  made  clear.^ 

1  Calvin.  ^  M.  E.  Grant  Duff,  Notes  from  a  Diary,  1892-5,  i.  126. 


The  Home  of  the  Soul. 


xxv.-cxix. — 14 


Literature. 


Cliflford  (J.),  Social  Worship  an  Everlasting  Necessity ^  26. 
Glover  (E,.),  The  Forgotten  Resting-placey  3. 
Liddon  (H.  P.),  Christmastide  in  St.  Paul's^  240. 
Marten  (C.  H.),  Plain  Bible  Addresses,  173. 
Myres  (W.  M.),  Fragments  that  Remain,  122. 
Kendall  (G.  H.),  Charterhouse  Sermons^  276. 
Eicliards  (W.  R.),  For  Whom  Christ  Died,  141. 
Shannon  (F.  F.),  The  SouVs  Atlas,  68. 

Spurgeon  (C.  H.),  New  Park  Street  Pulpit,  i.  (1855),  No.  46. 
Stephen  (R.),  Divine  and  Human  Influence,  ii.  255. 
Christian  Commonwealth,  xxxi.  (1911)  557  (R.  J.  Campbell). 
Christian  World  Pulpit,  xlvii.  396  (W.  Sinclair) ;  Ixiv.  419  (E. 
Eland) ;  Ixv.  102  (R.  Rainy). 


axo 


The  Home  of  the  Soul. 


Lord,  thou  hast  been  our  dwelling  place 
In  all  generations. — Ps.  xc.  i. 

The  90th  Psalm,  says  Isaac  Taylor,  might  be  cited  as  perhaps  the 
most  sublime  of  human  compositions,  the  deepest  in  feeling,  the 
loftiest  in  theologic  conception,  the  most  magnificent  in  its  imagery. 
True  is  it  in  its  report  of  human  life  as  troubled,  transitory,  and 
sinful;  true  in  its  conception  of  the  Eternal — the  Sovereign 
and  the  Judge,  and  yet  the  refuge  and  the  hope  of  men  who, 
notwithstanding  the  most  severe  trials  of  their  faith,  lose  not  their 
confidence  in  Him,  but  who,  in  the  firmness  of  faith,  pray  for, 
as  if  they  were  predicting,  a  near-at-hand  season  of  refreshment. 
Wrapped,  one  might  say,  in  mystery,  until  the  distant  day  of 
revelation  should  come,  there  is  here  conveyed  the  doctrine  of 
Immortality ;  for  in  this  very  plaint  of  the  brevity  of  the  life  of 
man,  and  of  the  sadness  of  these  his  few  years  of  trouble,  and 
their  brevity,  and  their  gloom,  there  is  brought  into  contrast  the 
Divine  immutability :  and  yet  it  is  in  terms  of  a  submissive  piety : 
the  thought  of  a  life  eternal  is  here  in  embryo.  No  taint  is  there 
in  this  psalm  of  the  pride  and  petulance,  the  half-uttered  blasphemy, 
the  malign  disputing  or  arraignment  of  the  justice  or  goodness  of 
God,  which  have  so  often  shed  a  venomous  colour  upon  the  language 
of  those  who  have  writhed  in  anguish,  personal  or  relative.  There 
are  few,  probably,  among  those  who  have  passed  through  times  of 
bitter  and  distracting  woe,  or  who  have  stood,  the  helpless  spec- 
tators of  the  miseries  of  others,  that  have  not  fallen  into  moods  of 
mind  violently  in  contrast  with  the  devout  and  hopeful  melancholy 
which  breathes  throughout  this  Ode.  Eightly  attributed  to  the 
Hebrew  lawgiver  or  not,  it  bespeaks  its  remote  antiquity,  not 
merely  by  the  majestic  simplicity  of  its  style,  but  negatively,  by 
the  entire  avoidance  of  those  sophisticated  turns  of  thought  which 
belong  to  a  late — a  lost — age,  in  a  people's  intellectual  and  moral 


212  THE  HOME  OF  THE  SOUL 

history.  This  psalm,  undoubtedly,  is  centuries  older  than  the 
moralizing  of  that  time,  when  the  Jewish  mind  had  listened  to 
what  it  could  never  bring  into  a  true  assimilation  with  its  own 
mind — the  abstractions  of  the  Greek  Philosophy.^ 

1.  There  was  a  tradition  among  the  Jews,  although  these  tradi- 
tions are  not  altogether  trustworthy,  that  Moses,  the  man  of  God, 
wrote  this  psalm  or  prayer.  And  it  has  always  been  felt  that  the 
psalm  seemed  to  have  some  special  connexion  with,  or  reference 
to,  the  experience  and  the  impressions  of  the  children  of  Israel 
in  the  days  that  they  were  doomed  to  wander  up  and  down  in  the 
wilderness  without  being  allowed  to  enter  into  the  Promised  Land. 
And  there  is  much  in  the  psalm  that  corroborates  that  view.  It 
is  the  psalm  of  a  generation  of  men  who  felt  themselves  to  be 
wasting  away  under  God's  wrath,  consumed  by  His  anger.  They 
are  spending  their  years  as  a  tale  that  is  told.  The  vanity  and 
emptiness  of  life  are  pressed  home  upon  them  with  great  severity. 
At  the  same  time,  it  is  not  a  psalm  of  mere  wailing  and  lamenta- 
tion. Very  far  from  it.  There  is  the  exercise  of  faith  in  it,  not 
only  in  the  first  verse,  but  in  the  appeal  to  God  to  come  and  dwell 
with  them  as  their  case  requires,  and  make  them  experience  His 
mercy.  The  cloud  is  dark  that  hangs  over  the  congregation,  but 
faith  is  still,  as  it  were,  seeing  the  bow  in  the  cloud. 

2.  By  whomsoever  written,  the  psalm  makes  it  plain  that  the 
writer  was  thinking  and  speaking  not  only  for  himself,  but  for  all 
his  own  people  of  Israel,  if  not  for  the  whole  race  of  mankind. 
These  opening  words  are  the  Eternal  Gospel  of  the  Fatherly  Love 
of  God,  in  which  the  sons  of  men  can  ever  find  their  "home." 
How  precious  is  that  last  word,  and  what  a  pity  that  our  trans- 
lators did  not  adopt  it  instead  of  "  dwelling  place."  Alas !  how 
many  there  are  whose  dwelling-place  is  not  a  "home."  The 
Prayer-Book  Version  is  a  little  better  in  giving  us  the  word 
"  refuge  " ;  for  to  most  of  us  home  is  the  best  refuge  we  can  find, 
if  not  the  only  one.  It  is  our  retreat  after  the  toils  and  turmoils 
of  the  busy  world,  our  refuge  from  the  strife  of  tongues,  our 
covert  from  the  scornful  rebuke  of  the  proud.  Our  home,  if  it  be 
as  God  intended  it  should  be,  is  the  place  where  all  that  is  best 

^  Isaac  Taylor,  Spirit  of  the  Hebrew  Poetry ^  161. 


PSALM  xc.  I 


213 


and  sweetest  in  life  is  cherished  and  enjoyed,  the  one  sacred  shrine 
where  even  the  outcast  can  find  love,  and  the  stern,  hard  heart 
can  also  find  an  opportunity  for  giving  a  little  love  in  return. 
Home  is  the  scene  of  our  keenest  anxieties  and  our  bitterest 
griefs,  no  less  than  of  our  most  restful  peace  and  of  our  highest 
joys.  But  in  the  process  of  evolving  and  growing  mankind,  all 
things  are  yet  unfinished  and  imperfect ;  even  our  very  homes 
are  not  full  enough  of  purity  and  peace  and  love  to  satisfy  the 
immortal  heart  of  man.  Defect,  disturbance,  and  decay,  with  all 
the  varied  chances  of  this  mortal  life,  make  even  the  best  of 
homes  partial  and  transient.  Our  immortal  souls  want  ever- 
lasting security,  unbroken  peace,  unalloyed  happiness.  Nothing 
less  than  the  Eternal  God  can  be  a  perfect  refuge,  a  perfect  home, 
for  the  souls  of  His  children.  And  in  Him  is  all  that  the  most 
craving  and  grasping  can  possibly  desire.  God  has  made  us  so 
that  nothing  shall,  nothing  can,  ever  satisfy  us  but  Himself.  And 
when  we  have  found  Him,  and  made  Him  our  real  refuge  and 
home,  we  have  gained  the  Eternal  Peace,  which  the  whole  world 
can  neither  give  nor  take  away. 

^  "  Lord,  thou  hast  been  our  dwelling  place  in  all  generations." 
Beside  that  venerable  and  ancient  abode,  that  has  stood  fresh, 
strong,  incorruptible,  and  unaffected  by  the  lapse  of  millenniums, 
there  stands  the  little  transitory  canvas  tent  in  which  our  earthly 
lives  are  spent.  ...  If  I  make  God  my  Eefuge,  I  shall  get  some- 
thing a  great  deal  better  than  escape  from  outward  sorrow — 
nam.ely,  an  amulet  which  will  turn  the  outward  sorrow  into  joy. 
The  bitter  water  will  still  be  given  me  to  drink,  but  it  will  be 
filtered  water,  out  of  which  God  will  strain  all  the  poison,  though 
He  leaves  plenty  of  the  bitterness  in  it ;  for  bitterness  is  a  tonic. 
The  evil  that  is  in  the  evil  will  be  taken  out  of  it  in  the  measure 
in  which  we  make  God  our  Eefuge,  and  all  will  be  "  right  that 
seems  most  wrong,"  when  we  recognize  it  to  be  "  His  sweet  will."  ^ 

1. 

Home. 

1.  Men  everywhere  have  either  burrowed  under  the  ground  or 
built  above  it,  and  sought  to  provide  some  kind  of  place  in  which 

^  A.  Maclaren,  The  God  of  the  Amen,  166. 


214         THE  HOME  OF  THE  SOUL 


they  might  dwell,  and  which  they  call  home.  Eude  and  im- 
perfect it  often  is,  made  of  such  materials  as  they  could 
find  to  hand,  or  in  such  ways  as  their  faculties  could  devise. 
Or  where  civilization  and  intelligence  have  advanced  or  wealth 
abounded,  men  have  built  houses  larger,  more  splendid,  and 
furnished  with  ample  conveniences.  But  in  all,  the  aim  and 
desire  have  been  to  have  a  place  where  they  couid  obtain 
shelter  and  rest. 

The  wilderness  episode  in  Israel's  life  meant  that  they  had  no 
home.  They  were  always  moving,  moving — all  the  year,  and  then 
another  year,  for  forty  years.  Never  settling  down  at  home, 
always  moving — you  might  well  call  such  an  experience  a  wilder- 
ness. Old  Egypt,  the  land  of  bondage,  had  been  bad  enough ;  but 
at  least  there  were  homes  in  Egypt,  and  it  was  no  wonder  if  at 
times  the  people  longed  to  turn  back  into  Egypt.  Homes  had 
been  promised  in  Canaan,  but  that  promise  was  for  the  benefit  of 
their  children.  These  adult  Israelites  through  one  long  forlorn 
generation  must  be  always  moving.  And  the  long-continued 
homelessness  taught  them  something.  For  all  time  to  come  the 
memory  of  that  homeless  wilderness  would  make  them  value  the 
homes  that  God  should  give  them  in  Canaan. 

^  Archbishop  Leigh  ton  died  in  an  inn  in  1684  during  a  visit 
to  London.  He  had  often  expressed  a  wish  to  die  in  an  inn 
"because  it  looks  so  like  a  pilgrim's  going  home,  to  whom  this 
world  is  all  a  pilgrimage."  ^ 

^  How  passionately  the  longing  could  possess  Stevenson  is 
familiar  to  all  those  who  have  read  the  thoughts  of  home  from 
abroad  in  Songs  of  Travel  and  Vailimcb  Letters.  In  a  deeper 
sense,  as  it  concerned  the  inward  life,  the  same  thing  is  true. 
Apparently  an  unresting  traveller  in  the  spiritual  country,  he  yet 
had  come  to  rest  upon  certain  great  convictions,  in  which  his 
spirit  had  its  home.  These  he  expresses  often  with  an  evident 
sense  of  relief  and  the  comfortable  jjeace  of  assurance.  In  the 
longest  journey  of  all,  the  lifelong  journey,  the  same  shadowy  but 
hospitable  and  firelit  sweetness  awaits  its  close.  The  Covenanters 
pass  the  dark  river  amid  a  "  storm  of  harsh  and  fiercely  jubilant 
noises "  which  add  a  tenfold  peacefulness  to  the  shores  which 
they  had  reached.  For  himself,  who  does  not  know  the  Eequiem 
which,  written  seven  years  before  his  death,  was  inscribed  upon 
his  tombstone  at  the  last : 

^  A.  Alexander,  in  The  Exjpository  Times,  xii.  563. 


PSALM  xc.  I 


215 


Under  the  wide  and  starry  sky, 
Dig  the  grave  and  let  me  lie. 
Glad  did  I  live  and  gladly  die, 

And  I  laid  me  down  with  a  will. 
This  be  the  verse  you  grave  for  me ; 
"Here  he  lies  where  he  longed  to  be; 
Home  is  the  sailor,  home  from  sea, 

And  the  hunter  home  from  the  hill." 

Such  words  imply  more  than  they  express ;  perhaps  they  mean 
more  than  the  speaker  knows.  In  them  we  hear  echoes  of  a  great 
voice  that  calls  home  the  thinker  to  faith,  the  struggler  to 
achievement,  and  the  dead  from  dying  to  a  new  life.  And  so 
there  is  arrival  as  well  as  travel,  after  all.  Indeed  the  two  are 
combined  in  regard  to  faith,  and  achievement,  and  that  dimly 
seen  but  beautiful  country  beyond  the  grave.  In  all  these,  the 
true  life  is  at  once  making  for  a  land  that  is  very  far  off,  and 
yet  at  the  same  time  it  is  ever  coming  home.^ 

Now  more  the  bliss  of  love  is  felt, 

Though  felt  to  be  the  same; 
'Tis  still  our  lives  in  one  to  melt, 

Within  love's  sacred  flame: 


Each  other's  joy  each  to  impart. 
Each  other's  grief  to  share; 

To  look  into  each  other's  heart, 
And  find  all  solace  there: 

To  lay  the  head  upon  one  breast, 
To  press  one  answering  hand, 

To  feel  through  all  the  soul's  unrest, 
One  soul  to  understand: 

To  go  into  the  teeming  world. 

The  striving  and  the  heat, 
With  knowledge  of  one  tent  unfurl'd 

To  welcome  weary  feet: 

A  shadow  in  a  weary  land. 

Where  men  as  wanderers  roam : 

A  shadow  where  a  rock  doth  stand — 
The  shadow  of  a  Home.^ 

*  John  Kelman,  The  Faith  of  Robert  Louis  Stevenson,  183. 
2  George  J.  Bomanes. 


2l6 


THE  HOME  OF  THE  SOUL 


2.  There  are  places  in  which  men  live,  calling  them  homes, 
but  in  which  there  is  no  comfort,  and  not  even  the  appearance  of 
it.  Poor,  wretched  dwellings  and  abodes  of  poverty,  squalor,  and 
suffering,  where  there  is  scarce  a  glow  on  the  hearth  to  warm,  or 
a  morsel  on  the  table  to  soothe  the  pangs  of  hunger.  Or  there 
are  dwellings  of  misery  and  wretchedness  from  vice  and  its  effects, 
scenes  of  brawling,  strife,  and  anger.  Or  there  are  abodes  where, 
though  there  may  be  earthly  abundance  and  luxuries,  there  is  a 
moral  coldness,  a  want  of  sympathy  and  affection  between  those 
who  dwell  under  the  same  roof ;  and  so  with  all  its  comforts,  it  is 
a  home  of  misery.  But  it  is  not  such  that  we  associate  with  the 
true  idea  of  home,  for  the  right  and  good  and  true  home  is  a  place 
of  happiness  and  comfort. 

^  How  can  those  who  do  not  know  Christ  and  our  Father's 
home  in  heaven  form  any  idea  of  them  save  from  what  they  see 
in  us  and  our  homes  ?  That  is  the  way  the  heathen  learn  of 
Christ  and  heaven.  In  Hangchow,  China,  Mrs.  Mattox  had  been 
accustomed  to  invite  the  little  children  to  her  home  and  make 
them  happy  there.  Once  a  Chinese  teacher  was  talking  to  some 
of  them,  and  asked,  "  Where  do  you  want  to  go  when  you  die — 
to  heaven  ? "  "  No,"  they  answered.  "  To  hell  ? "  "  No."  Where, 
then,  do  you  want  to  go  ? "  "  To  Mrs.  Mattox's  house,"  they  re- 
plied. They  could  not  imagine  anything  more  heavenly  than  that.^ 

3.  There  is  no  place  on  earth  which  is  so  dear  to  the  heart  as 
home,  if  the  home  is  such  as  we  usually  associate  with  the  name. 
It  is  connected  with  our  earliest  and  happiest  resolutions.  It  is 
the  place  round  which  are  twined  the  most  tender  and  hallowed 
memories.  It  is  the  spot  in  which  are  centred  our  fondest 
affections,  and  it  contains  in  it  the  hopes  of  all  the  purity  and 
goodness  which  are  to  come  hereafter.  However  humble  or  lowly, 
still  it  is  home,  a  dearer  and  a  sweeter  spot  than  all  the  world 
beside.  And  it  is  one  of  the  most  endearing  aspects  in  which  God 
can  be  regarded,  when  He  is  revealed  as  the  home  of  His  people, 
as  the  habitation,  *'  the  dwelling  and  abiding  place,"  of  the  soul  in 
all  time  and  under  every  circumstance. 

^  Arriving  in  New  York,  after  their  tour  in  Canada,  the  party 
proceeded  by  the  night  train  to  Washington,  where  they  spent  a 
day  driving  round  and  seeing  all  the  chief  buildings,  and  then,  two 

^  R.  E.  Specr,  Men  Who  were  Found  Faithful ^  141. 


PSALM  xc.  I 


217 


days  afterwards,  they  went  on  board  the  "  Lucania."  My  father 
writes:  "Never  shall  I  forget  the  joy  of  this  morning  and  the 
excitement  of  seeing,  as  we  drove  up,  the  funnels  of  the  grand 
'  Lucania ' :  I  passed  through  the  crowded  wharf  as  on  enchanted 
ground,  and  stepped  on  board  with  a  feeling  of  delight  and  gratitude 
reaching  almost  to  ecstasy.  Thank  God  for  this  trip,  for  all  His 
mercies,  for  all  the  kindness  of  friends  and  for  the  pleasure  and 
instruction  of  the  experience  ;  but  oh,  the  joy  of  returning  to  the 
old  country,  and  to  home  !  That  swallows  up  all  other  gratification 
in  one  great  rejoicing.  When  at  length  I  reach  the  gates  of  death, 
may  I  have  the  same  joy  in  prospect  of  the  heavenly  home  ! "  ^ 

If  As  one  contemplates  Mr.  Gladstone's  triumphs,  one  finds 
oneself  recurring  in  memory  to  the  beautiful  background  of 
domestic  quiet  and  stately  dignity  in  which  he  was  as  much  or 
more  at  home  than  in  the  public  gaze.  I  can  see  him  now  in  an 
old  wideawake  and  cloak — trudging  off  in  the  drizzle  of  an  October 
morning  to  an  early  service.  I  remember  how,  at  Hawarden  in 
1896,  on  one  of  the  sad  evenings  after  my  father's  death,  I  dined 
alone  with  him  and  one  other  guest,  and  with  what  beautiful 
consideration  he  talked  quietly  on  about  things  in  which  he 
thought  we  should  be  interested  —  things  that  needed  neither 
comment  nor  response,  and  all  so  naturally  and  easily,  that  one 
hardly  realized  the  tender  thoughtfulness  of  it  all.  And  last  of 
all,  I  remember  how  I  came  one  evening  at  a  later  date  to  dine  at 
Hawarden,  and  was  shown  into  a  little  half -lit  ante-room  next  the 
dining-room.  He  was  just  at  the  beginning  of  his  last  illness,  and 
he  was  suffering  from  discomfort  and  weakness.  There  on  a  sofa  he 
sat,  side  by  side  with  Mrs.  Gladstone ;  they  were  sitting  in  silence, 
hand  in  hand,  like  two  children,  the  old  warrior  and  his  devoted 
wife.  It  seemed  almost  too  sacred  a  thing  to  have  seen ;  but  it  is 
not  too  sacred  to  record,  for  it  seemed  the  one  last  perfect  trans- 
figuring touch  of  love  and  home.^ 

II. 

God  our  Home. 

Moses  was  a  homeless  man.  Early  in  life  he  had  fled  from 
Pharaoh's  court,  where  he  had  been  brought  up.  When  he  lived 
in  Midian  as  the  son-in-law  of  Jethro,  he  took  part  in  the 
wandering  life  of  the  desert  tribes.  When  he  was  called  upon 
to  deliver  the  children  of  Israel  from  Egypt,  and  to  be  their 

1  The  Life  of  Henry  J.  Pope,  by  his  Son,  174. 
^  A.  C.  Benson,  Along  the  Road,  53. 


2l8 


THE  HOME  OF  THE  SOUL 


leader  and  lawgiver,  he  shared  their  wanderings  for  forty  years 
in  the  great  and  terrible  wilderness,  where  they  had  no  fixed 
abode.  In  all  their  journeys  they  had  before  them  the  prospect 
of  Canaan,  the  good  land  which  God  was  to  give  them  for  a 
possession.  But  Moses  was  not  permitted  to  enter  upon  that 
goodly  inheritance.  He  was  to  see  it  from  afar  from  Mount 
Pisgah,  but  he  was  to  die  in  the  wilderness,  where  "no  man 
knoweth  of  his  sepulchre  unto  this  day."  And  so  the  old  man, 
who  knew  no  home  or  lasting  abode  on  earth,  finds  his  home  and 
refuge  in  Him.  He  contrasts  the  eternity  and  unchangeableness 
of  God  with  the  transitory  and  fleeting  circumstances  of  man. 
Thinking  of  the  past  generations,  he  remembered  what  God  was 
to  Abraham,  Isaac,  and  Jacob,  when  they  had  no  fixed  abode, 
but  confessed  that  they  were  strangers  and  pilgrims  on  earth. 
And  looking  to  future  generations  he  discerned  beyond  the  earthly 
Canaan  the  city  which  hath  foundations,  whose  builder  and  maker 
is  God.  And  so,  for  the  homeless  man  and  the  homeless  people, 
faith  beheld  the  promise  of  a  dwelling-place,  a  home,  in  the  Lord. 

Nay,  by  no  cumulative  changeful  years, 

For  all  our  bitter  harvesting  of  tears, 

Shalt  thou  tame  man,  nor  in  his  breast  destroy 

The  longing  for  his  home  which  deadens  joy. 

Not  blindly  in  such  moments,  not  in  vain, 

The  open  secret  flashes  on  the  brain, 

As  if  one  almost  guessed  it,  almost  knew 

Whence  we  have  sailed  and  voyage  whereunto; 

Not  vainly,  for  albeit  that  hour  goes  by, 

And  the  strange  letters  perish  from  the  sky, 

Yet  learn  we  that  a  life  to  us  is  given 

One  with  the  cosmic  spectacles  of  heaven, — 

Feel  the  still  soul,  for  all  her  questionings, 

Parcel  and  part  of  sempiternal  things ; 

For  us,  for  all,  one  overarching  dome, 

One  law  the  order,  and  one  God  the  home.^ 

1.  God  is  the  natural  home  of  the  soul.  In  that  home  it  was 
born,  from  that  great  Father  our  spirits  came,  "  traiHng  clouds  of 
glory  from  God,  who  is  our  home."  To  live  and  dwell  in  Him, 
nurtured  by  His  care,  fed  by  His  bounty,  watched  by  His  grace, 

1  F.  W.  H.  Myers,  The  Renewal  of  Youth. 


PSALM  xc.  I 


219 


guarded  by  His  mercy ;  to  be  brought  up  and  kept  in  His  love, 
and  to  love  Him  with  our  heart  and  soul,  and  there  and  then  to 
find  all  peace,  rest,  and  blessedness — that  is  our  purpose  and  our 
destiny,  that  the  design  and  blessedness  of  our  existence.  And 
only  in  Him  do  we  find  what  we  require — protection  against 
temptation,  shelter  from  trials,  and  refuge  from  calamity,  light  in 
the  midst  of  darkness,  warmth  to  cheer  our  dulled  and  deadened 
hearts,  release  from  the  burden  of  sin,  deliverance  from  the  power 
of  passion,  food  for  our  hunger,  safety  from  every  evil,  and  rest, 
quiet,  peaceful  rest,  to  our  agitated  and  worn  hearts. 

^  When  we  have  been  long  in  a  foreign  land,  associating  with 
strangers  or  casual  acquaintances  who  have  little  interest  in  us, 
and  no  love  for  us  ;  if  we  have  been  ill,  far  away  from  home  and 
friends,  and  have  had  no  friendly  faces  to  smile  on  us,  and  no 
sweet,  tender  sympathy  to  soothe  us,  how  gladsome  it  is,  after  such 
an  experience,  to  leave  that  land  of  exile  and  strangeness  and  to 
sail  for  home,  where  we  know — 

There  is  an  eye  will  mark 
Our  coming,  and  look  brighter  when  we  come. 

And  how  cheering  and  comforting  it  is  for  us  to  know  that, 
though  now  we  are  wanderers  from  home,  our  home  in  God  still 
awaits  us,  the  door  is  ever  open  to  receive  us,  and  the  kind, 
compassionate  Father  watching  for  us,  eager  for  our  return,  and 
ready  to  receive  us  and  enfold  us  in  His  love,  and  set  us  in  royal 
state  at  His  own  right  hand  to  partake  of  His  fulness,  to  be  with 
Him  and  His  dear  and  loved  ones,  whose  faces  will  beam  on  us 
with  tenderness  and  whose  hearts  will  overflow  to  us  with 
sympathy  and  affection;  and  that  out  of  that  home  we  shall 
never  again  go,  but  be  there  in  infinite  joy  and  glory  for  evermore. 
Your  soul  leaves  its  house  of  clay  within  which  it  has  dwelt  here 
below.    Where  shall  that  soul,  when  it  goes,  find  rest  and  home  ? 

Here  is  the  house, 

Empty  and  lone; 
Where  is  the  home  of  that  which  is  gone, 
Out  in  the  regions  of  boundless  black  space, 
Floating  and  floating,  no  space,  no  place? 
Or  did  it  gather  its  wealth  and  remove 
To  the  home  up  above? 
All's  still  in  the  house  here  below, 
God  grant  that  the  soul  that  has  wandered  away, 
Be  not  homeless  to-day. 


220  THE  HOME  OF  THE  SOUL 

Into  Thy  house, 

Lord,  take  us  straight, 
Lest  we  be  left  in  the  darkness  to  wait; 
Lest  we  be  lost  in  realms  without  sun, 
And  wander  for  ever  where  mansion  is  none, 
Crying  without,  "  Let  us  in !  Let  us  in ! " 
When  the  feast  shall  begin, 
And  the  door  shall  be  shut.^ 

2.  Home  suggests  a  place  where  care  is  thrown  aside,  while  the 
affections  expand  themselves  freely  and  fully,  and  loving  looks 
and  kindly  words  and  gentle  deeds  are  the  order  of  the  day. 
When  God  is  said  to  be  the  refuge  or  home  of  man,  it  is  meant 
that  God  offers  man  His  best  and  tenderest  welcome ;  that  in 
God,  and  God  alone,  man  finds  that  which  yields  perfect  repose 
and  satisfaction  to  all  the  pure  and  tender  sympathies  of  his 
nature.  For  man's  higher  or  spiritual  self  the  One  Eternal  Being 
is  what  the  fireside  represents  to  the  heart's  affection — a  sphere 
in  which  man  may  abandon  himself  to  perfect  enjoyment,  to  that 
unrestrained  delight  which  accompanies  a  sense  of  being  among 
friends,  with  wliom  reserve  is  neither  necessary  nor  possible. 

There  is  a  presence  moving  in  that  home,  anticipating  all 
our  wants,  cheering  us  when  we  are  sad,  hushing  us  when  we 
are  fretful  and  impatient,  smoothing  us  when  we  are  ruffled, 
ministering  to  us  when  we  are  in  suffering ;  and  the  soul,  enfolded 
in  God's  great,  tender  love,  finds  rest  and  blessedness.  And  as  it 
is  a  home  of  love,  it  is  one  in  which  there  is  no  coldness  or 
reserve.  In  the  world  there  is  always  a  certain  reserve.  There 
are  joys  which  delight  us,  but  which  others  cannot  care  for. 
There  are  sorrows,  cares,  anxieties  which  trouble  us,  but  in  which 
others  have  no  interest.  There  are  things  that  we  do  not  tell 
and  cannot  tell.  Even  with  our  most  familiar  acquaintances, 
there  are  some  chambers  in  our  heart  kept  locked  from  them. 
But  at  home,  in  a  home  of  love,  everything  is  open,  frank, 
free,  natural ;  we  throw  off  all  restraint,  unbosom  all  our  heart's 
cares  and  troubles ;  we  know  we  shall  get  sympathy ;  we  speak 
to  interested  ears  and  loving  hearts,  whose  joys  and  sorrows  are 
ours.  We  are  not  afraid  to  whisper  our  secrets.  It  is  to  no  rude 
and  heartless  gaze  we  expose  them.    We  do  not  fear  ridicule  or 

^  R.  Stephen,  Divine  and  Human  Influence,  ii.  271. 


I 


PSALM  xc.  I 


221 


cold  indifference.  We  confide  in  hearts  which  love  us  as  they 
love  themselves.  And  we  get  relief  by  others  sharing  and 
bearing  with  us.    So  the  soul  finds  sympathy  in  God. 

H  Lord,  I  have  viewed  this  world  over,  in  which  Thou  hast  set 
me ;  I  have  tried  how  this  and  that  thing  will  fit  my  spirit,  and 
the  design  of  my  creation,  and  can  find  nothing  on  which  to  rest, 
for  nothing  here  doth  itself  rest,  but  such  things  as  please  me  for 
a  while,  in  some  degree,  vanish  and  flee  as  shadows  from  before 
me.  Lo !  I  come  to  Thee — the  Eternal  Being — the  Spring  of 
life — the  Centre  of  rest — the  Stay  of  the  Creation — the  Fulness 
of  all  things.  I  join  myself  to  Thee ;  with  Thee  I  will  lead  my 
life,  and  spend  my  days,  with  whom  I  aim  to  dwell  for  ever, 
expecting,  when  my  little  time  is  over,  to  be  taken  up  ere  long 
into  Thy  eternity.^ 

3.  The  Old  Testament  is  rich  in  promises  that  God  will  supply 
the  earthly  needs  of  those  whose  trust  is  in  Him.  He  fed  His 
people  with  manna  in  the  wilderness ;  He  satisfieth  our  mouth 
with  good  things  (Ps.  ciii.  5).  He  prepareth  a  table  before  us  in 
the  presence  of  our  enemies  (Ps.  xxiii.  5).  The  promise  to  those 
who  trust  in  the  Lord  is  that  verily  they  shall  be  fed  (Ps.  xxxvii. 
3).  And  the  Psalmist  records  his  lifelong  experience  that  he 
had  never  "seen  the  righteous  forsaken,  nor  his  seed  begging 
bread"  (Ps.  xxxvii.  25).  And  He  who  gives  us  our  daily  bread 
also  satisfies  the  higher  needs  of  our  souls.  This  blessed  fact  is 
fully  developed  in  the  New  Testament ;  but  even  the  Old  Testa- 
ment saints  record  that  they  panted  for  God  "as  the  hart 
panteth  after  the  water  brooks  "  (Ps.  xlii.  1) ;  that  by  Him  their 
"  soul  shall  be  satisfied  as  with  marrow  and  fatness  (Ps.  Ixiii.  5). 
"  He  satisfieth  the  longing  soul,  and  filleth  the  hungry  soul  with 
goodness  "  (Ps.  cvii.  9).  If  we  make  the  Lord  our  habitation,  all 
our  wants,  spiritual  and  temporal,  will  be  supplied. 

^  As  is  a  mother  to  her  babe,  so  is  God  to  us.  She  makes 
the  children's  home — not  the  two-roomed  cottage  of  the  peasant, 
with  the  bare  walls  and  scant  furniture,  nor  the  many-roomed 
ducal  palace,  with  its  teeming  wealth  and  oppressive  luxury ;  but 
the  love  and  light,  the  warm  kisses  and  tender  care,  the  sweet 
smile  and  the  strong  soul  of  the  mother — she,  and  all  that  she  is, 
makes  "Home,  sweet,  sweet  Home."  She  is  the  dwelling-place 
of  the  child's  heart,  the  satisfaction  of  desire,  the  unfailing 

*  Jolin  Howe,  The  Vanity  of  Man  as  Mortal. 


222  THE  HOME  OF  THE  SOUL 


nourishment  of  the  child's  life.  What  God  has  made  that  mother 
to  her  child,  He  Himself  is  to  us  men — orr  asylum  of  peace,  our 
refuge  from  passing  foes,  our  dwelling-pUce  and  home  from  age 
to  age.^ 

4.  The  inviolability  of  home  is  the  spirit  of  our  English 
proverb,  that  a  man's  house  is  his  castle.  And  in  this  sense  God 
is  the  Home  of  the  soul ;  the  soul  finds  in  the  presence  of  God 
a  protection  against  the  enemies  which  threaten  it  with  ruin  in 
the  rough  life  of  the  world.  In  this  sense  David  cries,  "  I  will 
love  thee,  0  Lord,  my  strength.  The  Lord  is  my  rock,  and  my 
fortress  and  my  deliverer ;  my  God,  my  strength,  in  whom  I  will 
trust;  my  buckler  and  the  horn  of  my  salvation,  and  my  high 
tower."  Or  again,  "Be  thou  my  strong  rock  for  an  house  of 
defence  to  save  me.  For  thou  art  my  rock  and  my  fortress." 
Or,  again,  **  Be  thou  my  strong  habitation,  whereunto  I  may 
continually  resort;  thou  hast  given  commandment  to  save  me; 
for  thou  art  my  rock  and  my  fortress."  Once  more,  "  He  that 
dwelleth  in  the  secret  place  of  the  Most  High  shall  abide  under 
the  shadow  of  the  Almighty.  I  will  say  of  the  Lord,  He  is  my 
refuge  and  my  fortress ;  my  God,  in  whom  I  will  trust.  For  he 
shall  deliver  thee  from  the  snare  of  the  fowler,  and  from  the 
noisome  pestilence.  He  shall  cover  thee  with  his  pinions,  and 
under  his  wings  shalt  thou  take  refuge:  his  truth  is  a  shield 
and  a  buckler."  ^ 

^  One  incident  of  the  voyage  to  America  served  as  a  sharp 
test  to  Wesley  of  his  own  spiritual  condition.  Amongst  the 
passengers  he  found  a  little  group  of  Moravian  exiles,  who,  by  the 
simplicity  and  seriousness  of  their  piety,  strangely  interested  him. 
A  storm  broke  over  the  ship  one  evening  just  as  these  simple- 
minded  Germans  had  begun  a  religious  service ;  Wesley  describes 
what  follows :  "  In  the  midst  of  the  Psalm  wherewith  their 
service  began,  the  sea  broke  over,  split  the  mainsail  in  pieces, 
covered  the  ship,  and  poured  in  between  the  decks  as  if  the  great 
deep  had  already  swallowed  us  up.  A  terrible  screaming  began 
amongst  the  English.  The  Germans  calmly  sang  on.  I  asked 
one  of  tliem  afterwards,  *  Were  you  not  afraid  ? '  He  answered, 
'  I  thank  God,  no.'  I  asked,  *  But  were  not  your  women  and 
children  afraid  ? '    He   replied  mildly,  '  No ;   our  women  and 

*  J.  Clifford,  Social  Worship,  26. 

2  II.  P.  Liddou,  Christmastide  Sermons,  243. 


i 


PSALM  xc.  1 


children  are  not  afraid  to  die.'  From  them  I  went  to  their  cry- 
ing, trembling  neighbours,  and  pointed  out  to  them  the  difference 
in  the  hour  of  trial  between  him  that  feareth  God  and  him  that 
feareth  Him  not."  ^ 

5.  The  soul  that  talks  to  God  rises  out  of  a  narrow  and  selfish 
individualism  into  fellowship,  not  only  with  the  Eternal  Creator, 
but  also  with  the  vast  and  various  family  of  God  in  the  past, 
present,  and  future.  We  are  dwelling  in  the  same  home  as  our 
fathers  and  brothers  and  sons.  Israel  is  there  in  its  completeness. 
God  is  the  eternal  home  of  the  race.  "  The  elders  who,  through 
faith,  obtained  a  good  report,"  in  the  grey  dawn  of  the  world, 
dwelt  therein.  Abraham,  Isaac,  and  Jacob,  the  founders  of  Israel, 
had  long  since  passed  away,  but  their  home  was  not  broken  up, 
for  they  still  lived  in  and  to  God.  Indeed,  all  our  dead  live  in 
Him,  for  He  is  not  the  God  of  dead  men,  but  of  living  men,  for 
all  live  unto  Him.  Thus  we  are  already  all  together  with  the 
Lord. 

•[f  Bunyan's  Mr.  Fearing  was  "  kept  very  low,  and  made  his 
life  burdensome  to  himself by  fear  of  death.  But  as  he  came 
near  to  his  end  his  fear  disappeared,  and  "  he  went  over  at  last 
not  much  above  wetshod,"  sending,  as  his  last  message  to  his 
friends,  the  brave  words,  "  Tell  them  all,  it's  all  right."  ^ 

1  W.  H.  Fitchett,  TFesley  and  His  Century,  98. 

2  J.  Clifford,  Social  JVorshij),  31. 


i 


1 


The  Right  Use  of  Time. 


xxv.-cxix. — 15 


Literature. 


Darlow  (T.  H.),  The  Upward  Calling,  346. 

Gregg  (D.),  Our  Best  Moods,  339. 

Hobhouse  (W.),  The  Spiritual  Standard,  210. 

Hodge  (C),  Princeton  Sermons,  346. 

Lee  (R.),  Sermons,  268. 

Lefroy  (E.  C),  The  Christian  Ideal,  102. 

Morgan  (G.  E.),  Dreams  and  Realities,  49. 

Murray  (W.  H.),  The  Fruits  of  the  Spirit,  157. 

Prothero  (G.),  The  Armour  of  Light,  33. 

Smellie  (A.),  In  tU  Secret  Place,  396. 

Trimmer  (E,.),  Thirsting  for  the  Living  Waters,  132. 

Tyng  (S.  H.),  The  People's  Pulpit,  iv.  205. 

Christian  World  Pulpit,  Iviii.  65  (M.  G.  Pearse). 

Guardian,  Ixvii.  (1912)  418  (J.  W.  Willink). 

Homiletic  Review,  1.  379  (M.  G.  Pearse). 

Literary  Churchman,  xxiii.  (1877)  540. 

National  Preacher,  xxxiv.  33  (A.  Barnes). 

Preacher's  Magazine,  viii.  657  (T.  Puddicombe) ;  xxii.  67  (J.  Edwards). 


396 


The  Right  Use  of  Time. 


So  teach  us  to  number  our  days, 

That  we  may  get  us  an  heart  of  wisdom.— Ps.  xc.  12. 

1.  This  psalm  of  man's  pilgrimage  through  all  generations  has  in  it, 
says  Ewald, something  unusually  arresting,  solemn,  sinking  deep 
into  depths  of  the  Divinity.  Moses  might  well  have  been  seized 
by  these  awful  thoughts  at  the  close  of  his  wanderings ;  and  the 
author,  whoever  he  be,  is  clearly  a  man  grown  grey  with  vast 
experience,  who  here  takes  his  stand  at  the  close  of  his  earthly 
course."  The  verses  of  the  psalm  have  become  the  funeral  hymn 
of  Christendom,  which  every  Church  recites  at  the  burial  of  its 
dead. 

The  slow,  sad  experience  of  life  wrought  out  in  the  Psalmist 
a  twofold  result — he  has  learned  the  secret  both  of  detachment 
and  of  attachment.  This  aged  pilgrim  grows  more  and  more 
weaned  from  the  world  and  detached  from  things  trivial  and 
temporal;  he  stands  aloof  and  absolved  from  the  accidents  of 
existence.  But  he  clings  closer  and  closer  still  to  things  unseen 
and  eternal,  and  is  made  partaker  of  their  everlastingness.  Such 
should  be  the  effect  of  a  right  numbering  of  the  days  and  years  as 
they  escape  us — to  teach  at  last  that,  though  the  world  passeth 
away,  and  the  lust  thereof,  yet  he  who  doeth  the  will  of  God 
abideth  for  ever. 

2.  But  he  has  learned  more  than  that.    He  has  learned  that 

God  is  from  everlasting  to  everlasting.    It  would  help  to  cheer  us 

if  we  could  lay  this  thought  to  heart,  numbering  our  days,  not 

merely  to  realize  their  brevity,  but  to  realize  by  contrast  the 

length  of  God's  yeai-s.    We  have  but  a  short  time  to  work,  and  it 

is  well  to  remember  that,  in  order  that  we  may  be  diligent.  But 

God  has  a  whole  eternity  wherein  to  work,  and  it  is  well  to 

remember  that  also,  so  that  we  may  cease  from  fretfulness  and 

227 


228         THE  RIGHT  USE  OF  TIME 


impatience  at  the  slow  progress  of  the  Divine  Kingdom.  It  is  by 
so  numbering  both  our  years  and  God's  that  we  attain  to  a  wise 
heart. 

^  Time  was  Napoleon's  most  precious  commodity,  and  for 
every  stage  and  state  of  life  he  had  a  routine  from  which  he 
deviated  most  unwillingly.  In  these  years  his  days  were  spent 
in  the  careful  husbanding  of  every  hour.^ 


A  Prayer  for  Instruction. 

"Teach  us." 

1.  At  first  thought  it  would  seem  as  though  we  needed  not  to 
be  instructed  on  such  a  subject.  It  would  seem  as  though  man's 
mortality  were  so  evident  that  it  would  be  impossible  for  him  to 
hide  it  from  himself.  Nevertheless,  he  does  hide  it  from  himself, 
and  on  this  account  no  prayer  is  more  important  than  the  prayer 
of  the  text.  The  demonstration  of  human  mortality  is  in  a 
hundred  generations  of  the  dead.  It  is  in  the  ground  beneath 
our  feet,  which  is  billowy  with  graves  full  of  the  dust  which  once 
lived  in  human  forms  and  spoke  and  was  loved.  It  is  in  the  long 
line  of  the  one  hundred  thousand  human  lives  which  every  day 
pass  the  boundary-line  from  time  into  eternity  and  melt  into 
nothingness  before  our  eyes.  It  is  in  every  tick  of  the  clock  which 
marks  the  passage  of  some  immortal  soul  and  declares  the  death- 
rate  of  the  world.  Yet,  humanity  at  large  does  not  realize  the 
mortality  of  humanity.  So  thoroughly  unrealized  is  the  mortality 
of  man  that  the  first  condition  of  right  living,  the  fundamental 
thought  of  a  wise  life,  is  ignored  and  undreamed  of  by  thousands 
and  thousands. 

^  We  can  number  other  men's  days  and  years,  and  think  they 
will  die  ere  it  be  long,  if  we  see  them  sick  or  sore  or  cold :  but  we 
cannot  number  our  own.  When  two  ships  meet  on  the  sea,  they 
which  are  in  one  ship  think  that  the  other  ship  doth  sail  exceed- 
ingly fast,  but  that  their  ship  goeth  fair  and  softly,  or  rather 
standeth  still,  although  in  truth  one  ship  saileth  as  fast  as  the 
other ;  so  every  man  thinks  that  the  other  post  and  run  and  fly 
^  W.  M.  Sloane,  Napoleon  Bonaparte,  ii.  253. 


PSALM  xc.  12 


229 


to  the  grave,  but  that  himself  standeth  stock  still,  although,  in- 
deed, a  year  with  him  is  no  longer  than  it  is  with  the  other.^ 

^  I  remember,  in  the  seminary,  a  fellow  student  who  had 
upon  the  crown  of  his  head  a  tumour  that  was  constantly  grow- 
ing. The  physicians  told  him  that  it  was  impossible,  by  any 
effort  of  human  skill,  to  relieve  him.  He  was  waiting  the 
moment  when,  in  its  growth,  it  should  at  last  pierce  the  hard 
bone  of  the  skull ;  and  he  knew  that  the  moment  that  should  be 
accomplished,  he  would  fall  dead.  God  has  spared  him  these 
many  years  to  preach  the  gospel.  But,  when  others  were  full  of 
frolic  and  fun,  I  noted  the  serious  mirth  of  that  man.  He  lived 
in  a  division  of  his  days.  He  counted  nothing  in  the  future.  He 
finished  each  day's  work  when  the  night  came.^ 

2.  The  uncertainty  of  human  life  and  the  vanity  of  human 
wishes  have  always  been  the  theme  of  the  satirist  as  well  as  of 
the  preacher.  But  satire  by  itself  is  no  remedy ;  it  can,  at  best, 
only  point  out  the  disease.  In  the  very  fact  that  nothing  is 
certain  about  life  except  its  uncertainty,  we  have  a  safeguard. 
We  know  roughly  the  limits  by  which  we  are  circumscribed ;  we 
know  enough  to  warn,  but  not  enough  to  paralyse.  Could  we 
look  forward  with  absolute  certainty  to  half  a  century  of  health 
and  vigour,  we  might  be  carried  away  even  more  than  we  are  by 
the  pride  of  life.  Did  we  know  that  death  awaited  us  in  the  near 
future,  our  spirits  would  be  dulled,  our  ardour  damped  in  carry- 
ing out  legitimate  schemes  of  useful  work.  As  it  is,  we  may  con- 
struct our  averages  of  life,  we  may  frame  our  insurance  tables  for 
the  mass  with  some  approach  to  accuracy ;  but  we  cannot  predict 
the  length  of  an  individual  life,  save  when  medical  skill  can 
anticipate  by  a  little  the  decree  which  has  already  gone  forth.  It 
is  a  merciful  dispensation  that  has  so  ordered  things.  God  would, 
indeed,  have  us  to  ponder  over  the  mysteries  which  surround  our 
existence,  but  not  in  such  a  way  as  to  sap  the  power  of  action  in  us. 

^  Herein  is  the  secret,  the  true  alleviation  of  the  burden  of 
to-morrow;  not  the  false  and  feeble  attempt  to  oppose  care  by 
carelessness,  to  turn  from  the  anxieties  and  troubles  of  life  to  a 
wild  recklessness,  assuming  only  a  painful  jauntiness  which  con- 
ceals the  pain.  The  true  remedy  is  not  forgetfulness,  but  faith. 
This  is  the  peace  of  God  which  passeth  all  understanding,  which 
guards  the  heart  and  calms  the  fevered  life.    To  the  soul  which 

1  Henry  Smith.  2  g.  H.  Tyng. 


230         THE  RIGHT  USE  OF  TIME 

has  this  noble  courage  born  of  faith  no  turn  of  affairs  can  come 
amiss.  He  is  not  open  to  the  blows  of  chance.  It  is  not  mere 
resignation :  it  is  glad  confidence  that  all  things  work  together 
for  good  to  them  that  love  the  Lord.  "If  I  should  intend 
Liverpool  and  land  in  heaven,"  said  John  Howe  about  a  passage 
from  Ireland.  If,  what  then  ?  To  John  Howe,  who  knew  that  the 
eternal  God  was  his  refuge,  and  underneath  were  the  everlasting 
arms,  what  shadow  could  the  future  have?  Why  should  he  be 
bowed  down  by  the  burden  of  to-morrow  ?  As  his  days,  right  on 
till  the  last  sand  had  run,  right  on  till  the  last  gasp  of  breath,  so 
would  be  his  strength.^ 

IL 

A  Wise  Enumeration. 

"Teach  us  to  number  our  days." 

1.  What  does  it  mean  to  "  number  our  days  "  ?  Not  just  to 
calculate  the  chances  of  our  own  survival  in  this  world — which 
we  may  easily  gather  from  the  actuarial  tables  of  an  insurance 
company.  It  means  to  take  the  measure  of  our  days  as  compared 
with  the  work  to  be  performed,  with  the  provision  to  be  laid  up 
for  eternity,  with  the  preparation  to  be  made  for  death,  with  the 
precaution  to  be  taken  against  judgment  to  come.  It  is  to 
estimate  human  life  by  the  purposes  to  which  it  should  be 
applied,  by  the  eternity  to  which  it  must  conduct.  It  means  to 
gauge  and  test  our  own  career  in  the  light  of  its  moral  and 
spiritual  issues.  And  as  God  teaches  us  this,  we  understand  the 
secret  of  true  wisdom.  For  wisdom  lies  in  a  just  estimate  of  the 
real  value  of  things.  "  What  shall  it  profit  a  man  ? "  remains  the 
final  question.  As  Plato  said,  in  one  of  his  mystical  sentences, 
it  is  the  art  of  measurement  which  would  save  the  soul. 

2.  The  Psalmist's  petition  in  effect  asks  that  we  shall  so  mind 
the  things  of  this  world  as  not  to  forget  their  issues ;  and  that  we 
shall  so  mind  the  things  of  eternity  as  not  to  forget  that  they  are 
to  be  gained  through  godliness,  righteousness,  and  sobriety  in  using 
the  things  of  time.  The  sublime  motive  in  the  distance  must  not 
overpower  us,  so  that  we  shall  be  rendered  unfit  for  discharging 
our  present  duty,  small  and  insignificant  though  it  may  be ;  nor 

1  Hugh  Black,  Comfort,  189. 


PSALM  xc.  12 


231 


must  we  be  so  engrossed  with  the  present  duty  as  to  lose  sight  of 
the  grand  motive,  which  redeems  from  littleness  every  duty,  how- 
ever small,  which  is  a  means  to  so  great  an  end. 

3.  The  true  way  to  number  our  days  is  not  so  to  number  them 
that  they  seem  to  include  the  result  of  our  lives,  but  so  to  number 
them  that  they  seem  to  include  simply  the  beginning  of  our  lives. 
They  and  all  they  bring  are  only  stepping-stones  which  lead  us 
up  to  the  threshold  of  a  nobler  life,  nobler  in  its  opportunities, 
occasions,  and  the  character  of  its  joy.  Life  is  not  mere  existence, 
the  coming  and  the  going  of  breath,  and  its  coming  again ;  life 
means  all  that  it  includes  of  feeling  and  thinking  and  doing  and 
growth.  And  the  heavenly  life  is  only  the  continuing  of  our 
activities  and  the  multiplication  of  serviceable  occasions  along 
those  high  levels  and  stretches  of  being  to  the  altitude  of  which 
we  are  lifted  by  the  movement  of  prior  activities,  as  birds  are 
lifted  by  the  movement  of  their  wings.  The  man  who  numbers 
his  days  rightly,  numbers  them  not  as  if  they  ended  anything,  but 
as  if  they  began  something.  He  thinks  of  them  in  their  termina- 
tion as  bringing  him  not  to  an  end  but  to  a  beginning  —  a 
beginning  for  which,  if  rightly  used,  they  prepare  and  fit  him. 

^  "  What  would  you  wish  to  be  doing,"  was  the  question  once 
put  to  a  wise  man,  "  if  you  knew  that  you  were  to  die  the  next 
minute  ? "  "  Just  what  I  am  doing  now,"  was  his  reply,  though 
he  was  neither  repeating  the  creed  nor  telling  his  religious  ex- 
perience, but,  for  aught  I  know,  posting  his  accounts,  or  talking 
merry  nonsense  with  his  children  round  the  fire.  Nothing  that  is 
worthy  of  a  living  man  can  be  unworthy  of  a  dying  one;  and 
whatever  is  shocking  in  the  last  moment,  would  be  disgraceful  in 
every  other.^ 

^  The  family  motto  of  Dr.  Doddridge  was  Dum  vivimus, 
vivamus,  which  in  its  primary  significance  is,  to  be  sure,  not  very 
suitable  to  a  Christian  divine ;  but  he  paraphrased  it  thus : — 

Live,  while  you  live,  the  epicure  would  say, 
And  seize  the  pleasures  of  the  present  day. 
Live,  while  you  live,  the  sacred  preacher  cries, 
And  give  to  God  each  moment  as  it  flies. 
Lord,  in  my  views  let  both  united  be, 
I  live  in  pleasure,  when  I  live  to  Thee.^ 

^  James  Martineau.  ^  Gentleman's  Magazine,  1786,  p.  36. 


232         THE  RIGHT  USE  OF  TIME 


Life  is  unutterably  dear, 

God  makes  to-day  so  fair; 
Though  heaven  is  better, — being  here 

I  long  not  to  be  there. 

The  weights  of  life  are  pressing  still, 

Not  one  of  them  may  fall; 
Yet  such  strong  joys  my  spirit  fill, 

That  I  can  bear  them  all. 

Though  Care  and  Grief  are  at  my  side, 

There  would  I  let  them  stay, 
And  still  be  ever  satisfied 

With  beautiful  To-day  !i 

III. 

The  Units  of  Life. 

*•  Our  days." 

1.  Notice  the  writer's  unit  of  computation  in  measuring  life. 
He  speaks  not  of  years,  not  even  of  months  or  weeks,  but  of  days. 
There  is  something  very  impressive  in  such  a  mode  of  reckoning. 
A  year  is  a  long  period ;  and  while  we  may  hope  for  years  of  life, 
be  they  many  or  few,  the  passage  of  time  is  not  continuously  felt 
by  us.  But  days — how  they  rush  past  and  fly  away  with  a 
rapidity  which  on  reflection  is  almost  appalling!  Even  the 
heedless  man  must  feel  the  ebb  of  life  when  it  comes  to  be 
calculated  by  days.  Yet  as  we  see  the  winged  hours  go  by,  we  are 
apt  to  think  as  lightly  of  them  as  if  the  series  would  never  cease. 
We  sleep  and  play  and  busy  ourselves  with  what  we  call  the 
serious  business  of  life  without  much  reference  to  the  rising  and 
setting  of  the  sun.  A  day  lost,  a  day  half  wasted,  a  day  misused, 
causes  us  no  poignant  regret.  We  are  so  confident  that  many 
others  are  still  in  store  for  us.  As  they  have  come  and  gone  in 
the  past,  so  will  they  come  and  go  in  the  future.  We  must  admit, 
if  we  are  pressed,  that  the  supply  is  not  absolutely  unlimited.  An 
end  will  be  reached  at  some  indefinite  epoch,  but  not  yet — not 
yet ;  and  if  meanwhile  we  are  careless  or  prodigal,  we  anticipate 
»  Charlotte  F.  B.  Rog6. 


PSALM  xc.  12 


233 


many  opportunities  of  "  making  up  for  lost  time  " — as  if  it  were 
ever  possible  to  make  up  for  lost  time ! 

Oh,  Day,  if  I  squander  a  wavelet  of  thee, 
A  mite  of  my  twelve  hours'  treasure, 
The  least  of  thy  gazes  or  glances, 

(Be  they  grants  thou  art  bound  to  or  gifts  above  measure) 

One  of  thy  choices  or  one  of  thy  chances, 

(Be  they  tasks  God  imposed  thee  or  freaks  at  thy  pleasure) 

■ — My  Day,  if  I  squander  such  labour  or  leisure, 

Then  shame  fall  on  Asolo,  mischief  on  me  !  ^ 

2.  On  our  maps  we  have  lines  to  mark  the  parallels  of  latitude 
— but  these  lines  are  only  on  the  map.  Crossing  the  equator  or 
the  tropics  you  see  no  score  in  the  water,  no  line  in  the  sky,  to 
mark  it ;  the  vessel  gives  no  lurch,  no  call  is  emitted  from  the 
deep ;  it  is  only  the  man  of  skill,  the  pilot  or  the  captain,  with  his 
eye  on  the  signs  of  heaven,  who  can  tell  that  an  event  has 
happened,  and  that  a  definite  portion  of  the  voyage  is  completed. 
And,  so  far,  our  life  is  like  a  voyage  on  the  open  sea,  every  day 
repeating  its  predecessor — the  same  watery  plain  around  and  the 
same  blue  dome  above — each  so  like  the  other  that  you  might 
fancy  the  charmed  ship  was  standing  still.  But  it  is  not  so.  The 
watery  plain  of  to-day  is  far  in  advance  of  the  plain  of  yesterday, 
and  the  blue  dome  of  to-day  may  be  very  like  its  predecessors,  but 
it  is  fashioned  from  quite  another  sky. 

Their  advent  is  as  silent  as  their  going. 
They  have  no  voice  nor  utter  any  speech, 
No  whispered  murmur  passes  each  to  each. 
As  on  the  bosom  of  the  years'  stream  flowing, 
They  pass  beyond  recall,  beyond  our  knowing, 
Farther  than  sight  can  pierce  or  thought  can  reach. 
Nor  shall  we  ever  hear  them  on  Time's  beach. 
No  matter  how  the  winds  of  life  are  blowing. 

They  bide  their  time,  they  wait  the  awful  warning 
Of  that  dread  day,  when  hearts  and  graves  unsealing. 
The  trumpet's  note  shall  call  the  sea  and  sod. 
To  yield  their  secrets  to  the  sun's  revealing: 
What  voices  then  shall  thrill  the  Judgment  morning, 
As  our  lost  hours  shall  cry  aloud  to  God? 2 

^  Browning,  Pippa  Passes.  *  R.  T.  W.  Duke. 


234         THE  RIGHT  USE  OF  TIME 

3.  Is  it  because  God  gives  us  time  so  imperceptibly  that  none 
of  us  estimates  the  full  value  of  time  ?  The  individual  moment  is 
not  looked  upon  as  a  precious  grain  of  gold.  One  could  prove  this 
in  many  ways  ;  but  let  us  be  satisfied  with  one  way.  Take,  as  an 
example,  the  names  of  our  various  methods  of  getting  rid  of  time. 
These  indicate  our  undervaluation  of  time.  Notice  some  of  these 
names :  "  pastime,"  i.e.,  what  consumes  and  uses  up  the  hours 
easily;  "amusement,"  i.e.,  what  prevents  musing  or  meditation; 
"  diversion,"  i.e.,  what  turns  aside ;  "  entertainment,"  i.e.,  what 
holds  in  suspense  or  equilibrium.  These  words,  which  are  in 
common  use,  indicate  and  reveal  a  wrong  condition  of  thought 
and  feeling  about  time.  They  characterize  it  as  a  drug  in  the 
market  to  be  got  rid  of  at  any  price  and  in  any  quantity,  whereas 
it  is  the  most  precious  trust  we  have. 

^  The  illusion  haunts  us,  that  a  long  duration,  as  a  year,  a 
decade,  a  century,  is  valuable.  But  an  old  French  sentence 
says,  "  God  works  in  moments," — "  En  peu  d'heure  Dieu  labeure." 
We  ask  for  long  life,  but  'tis  deep  life,  or  grand  moments  that  signify. 
Let  the  measure  of  time  be  spiritual,  not  mechanical.  Life  is  un- 
necessarily long.  Moments  of  insight,  of  fine  personal  relation,  a 
smile,  a  glance — what  ample  borrowers  of  eternity  they  are 

Forenoon  and  afternoon  and  night, — forenoon 
And  afternoon  and  night, — forenoon  and — what  ? 
The  empty  song  repeats  itself.    No  more  ? 
Yea,  that  is  life :  make  this  forenoon  sublime, 
This  afternoon  a  psalm,  this  night  a  prayer. 
And  Time  is  conquered,  and  thy  crown  is  won.* 

IV. 

Reckoning  with  a  Purpose. 

"  So  teach  us  to  number  our  days,  that  we  may  get  us  an  heart  of  wisdom." 

The  reckoning  must  be  made  with  a  purpose.  Objectless 
meditations,  and  laments  without  a  practical  outcome,  will  avail 
nothing.  The  result  of  our  counsels  must  be  the  attainment  of 
"  wisdom,"  and  wisdom  does  not  consist  in  the  mere  recognition 
of  a  truth,  however  momentous.    It  is  a  small  thing  to  face  the 

1  Emerson.  *  Edward  Rowland  Sill. 


PSALM  xc.  12 


235 


fact  of  the  shortness  of  human  life,  and  call  it  an  evil  not  to  be 
avoided  by  any.  The  shallowest  of  heathen  philosophies  could 
tell  us  that.  "  So  teach  us  to  number  our  days,  that  we  may  get 
us  an  heart  of  wisdom." 

1.  Wisdom  is  a  great  word,  because  the  idea  it  symbolizes  is 
great.  It  is  greater  than  knowledge,  for  knowledge  symbolizes 
only  what  one  has  received.  Knowledge  signifies  the  ac- 
cumulation of  facts,  the  gathering  and  retention  of  information, 
the  reception  on  the  part  of  our  memories  of  whatever  has 
been  discovered.  But  wisdom  represents  that  finer  power,  that 
higher  characteristic  of  mind,  which  suggests  the  proper  applica- 
tion of  facts,  the  right  use  of  knowledge,  the  correct  direction  of 
our  faculties.  Knowledge  is  full  of  error.  The  stubble  and  the 
chaff  lie  together  in  its  chambers,  and  both  represent  it.  But 
wisdom  never  errs.  It  separates  the  wheat  from  the  chaff.  It 
discards  what  is  worthless,  and  retains  only  the  valuable.  Know- 
ledge represents  the  results  of  human  industry.  Wisdom  re- 
presents the  characteristic  of  Divinity.  He  whose  heart  is  applied 
to  wisdom  has  put  himself  in  such  a  position  that  he  can  think 
divinely — think  as  God  would  think  in  his  place. 

^  Wisdom  signifies  an  acquisition,  by  means  of  the  soul's 
faculty  of  perception,  of  true  knowledge ;  and  the  lack  of  such 
knowledge  is  ignorance.  The  idea,  held  by  many  people,  that 
wisdom  is  a  gift  bestowed  on  a  few  privileged  souls  is  erroneous. 
Wisdom  is  open  to  all,  without  price  or  favour.  Wisdom,  beauti- 
ful and  divine,  represents  the  highest  development  of  the  human 
soul.  There  is  a  path  leading  from  the  lowest  to  the  highest,  and 
it  is  open  equally  to  all.  As  soon  as  a  man  begins  to  seek  for 
knowledge  and  truth,  he  begins  to  advance  out  of  ignorance  and 
to  acquire  wisdom.  The  desire  for  knowledge  and  truth  is  itself 
an  evidence  of  wisdom.^ 

2.  Now  wisdom  for  time  and  for  eternity  does  not  lie  in  the 
pursuit  of  pleasure,  not  even  in  the  pursuit  of  happiness,  but  in 
the  cultivation  of  a  rising  life.  This  is  not  to  say  that  happiness 
may  never  be  hoped  for  or  enjoyed  when  it  comes.  If  we  did  not 
desire  to  be  happy,  we  should  be  more  than  human, — or  less. 
But  the  only  way  of  obtaining  happiness  is  to  renounce  altogether 
the  pursuit  of  it.    "Seek  ye  first  the  kingdom  of  God  and  his 

^  R.  H.  Hodgson,  Glad  Tidings ,  42. 


236         THE  RIGHT  USE  OF  TIME 


righteousness,  and  all  these  things" — things  which  go  to  make 
life  happy — "  shall  be  added  unto  you."  Self -consecration  is  the 
root  of  all  true  happiness.  It  is  the  one  thing  that  ensures  con- 
tentment here  and  hereafter;  the  one  thing  that  will  bring  a 
man  peace  at  the  last.  Only  by  losing  our  life  in  God  can  we 
hope  to  find  it  immortalized.  Only  by  a  dedication  of  all  that  we 
have,  and  are,  and  desire,  shall  we  attain  to  the  perfect  existence. 
This  is  wisdom  and  this  is  happiness. 

^  The  third  chapter  of  Dr.  Hanna's  Memoir  describes  Dr. 
Chalmers'  ordination  to  his  Fifeshire  parish  of  Kilmany,  in  the 
Maytime  of  1803  ;  but  we  have  to  journey  on  to  the  eighth  chapter 
and  the  winter  of  1811,  before  the  preacher  has  any  Gospel  to  pro- 
claim. Through  the  intervening  years  Chalmers  was  more 
interested  in  mathematics  than  in  the  New  Testament,  and  in  his 
lectures  to  the  students  of  St.  Andrews  on  chemistry  and  geology 
than  in  the  spiritual  welfare  of  his  people.  "  The  author  of  this 
pamphlet,"  he  wrote  in  self-defence,  "  can  assert,  on  the  authority 
of  his  own  experience,  that,  after  the  satisfactory  discharge  of  his 
parish  duties,  a  minister  may  enjoy  five  days  in  the  week  of  un- 
interrupted leisure  for  the  prosecution  of  any  science  in  which 
his  taste  may  dispose  him  to  engage."  Years  afterwards,  in  a 
debate  in  the  Assembly  of  1825,  he  recanted  the  words  and  con- 
fessed his  error  amid  the  deathlike  stillness  of  the  House.  "  I 
have  no  reserve  in  saying  that  the  sentiment  was  wrong,  and  that, 
in  the  utterance  of  it,  I  penned  what  was  most  outrageously 
wrong.  Strangely  blinded  that  I  was  !  What,  sir,  is  the  object 
of  mathematical  science  ?  Magnitude,  and  the  proportions  of 
magnitude.  But  then,  sir,  I  had  forgotten  two  magnitudes.  I 
thought  not  of  the  littleness  of  time ;  I  recklessly  thought  not  of 
the  greatness  of  eternity."  ^ 

3.  The  end  of  life  is  not  to  live  the  maximum  number  of  hours 
in  pleasure,  but  to  form  a  character  for  all  eternity ;  and  if  we 
want  to  take  stock  of  loss  and  gain  aright,  we  must  look  into 
our  own  hearts.  We  must  see  what  treasure  it  is  to  which  they 
are  drawn,  whether  above  or  below.  Let  us  not  scruple  to  put 
this  to  familiar  and  matter-of-fact  tests  ;  there  should  be  no  false 
dignity  about  religion.  Let  us  ask  ourselves  plain  questions  like 
these:  Has  our  time  been  frittered  away,  in  society,  in  amuse- 
ment, in  the  thousand  distractions  of  life — harmless,  perhaps,  each 
one  taken  by  itself,  but  in  the  aggregate  fatal  to  the  usefulness 
*  A.  Smellie,  Robert  Murray  M'^Cheyne,  13. 


PSALM  xc.  12 


237 


and  true  greatness  of  life  ?  Has  God  been  crowded  out  of 
our  thoughts  ?  Has  our  hold  on  the  unseen  diminished  ?  Have 
we  become  more  encrusted  with  earthly  things,  till  we  find  it  im- 
possible to  look  up,  prayer  being  more  difficult  and  the  thought  of 
religion  more  unwelcome  ?  Is  our  moral  courage  less  ?  Are  we 
more  afraid  to  confess  God  before  men,  or  to  protest  against 
insults  which  we  hear  offered  to  His  name  ?  Are  we  more  haunted 
by  evil  thoughts,  and  less  able  to  resist  them  ?  Have  we  grown 
in  patience,  cheerfulness,  humility?  Are  we  more  ready  to  do 
the  "  little,  nameless,  unremembered  acts  of  kindness,"  which  have 
none  of  the  charm  of  heroism,  and  remain  unknown  beyond  the 
narrowest  circle  ?  Has  our  will  grown  in  strength,  so  that  we 
are  less  at  the  mercy  of  "  chance  desires  "  and  sudden  temptations, 
more  at  unity  with  ourselves,  more  settled  in  the  drift  and  direc- 
tion of  our  lives  ?  And  an  answer  we  can  give  to  these  if  we  take 
the  trouble — not  necessarily  the  same  answer  to  all,  not  perhaps 
an  unqualified  answer  to  many,  but  still  something  that  will 
show  US  whether  we  are  being  carried  along  by  the  stream  or 
making  way  against  it. 

^  The  universe  is  full  of  miracle  and  mystery ;  the  darkness 
and  silence  are  set  for  a  sign  we  dare  not  despise.  The  pall  of 
night  lifts,  leaving  us  engulphed  in  the  light  of  immensity  under 
a  tossing  heaven  of  stars.  The  dawn  breaks,  but  it  does  not 
surprise  us,  for  we  have  watched  from  the  valley  and  seen  the  pale 
twilight.  Through  the  wondrous  Sabbath  of  faithful  souls,  the 
long  day  of  rosemary  and  rue,  the  light  brightens  in  the  East ;  and 
we  pass  on  towards  it  with  quiet  feet  and  opening  eyes,  bearing 
with  us  all  of  the  redeemed  earth  that  we  have  made  our  own, 
until  we  are  fulfilled  in  the  sunrise  of  the  great  Easter  Day,  and 
the  peoples  come  from  north  and  south  and  east  and  west  to  the 
city  which  lieth  foursquare — the  Beatific  Vision  of  God.^ 

Time  speeds  on  his  relentless  track. 

And — though  we  beg  on  bended  knees — 

No  prophet's  hand  for  us  puts  back 
The  shadow  ten  degrees : 

Yet  dream  we  each  returning  spring, 

When  woods  are  decked  in  gold  and  green, 

The  dawning  year  to  us  will  bring 
The  best  that  yet  has  been. 

^  Michael  Fairless,  Tloe  Boadmend&r,  90. 


THE  RIGHT  USE  OF  TIME 


Which  is  an  earnest  of  the  truth 

That  when  the  years  have  passed  away, 

We  shall  receive  eternal  youth 
And  never-ending  day. 

An  angel  to  each  land  and  clime 
Shall  locust-eaten  years  restore, 

And  swear  by  Him  who  conquered  Time 
That  Time  shall  be  no  more.^ 


Ellen  Thorneycroft  Fowler,  Love's  Argument.  115. 


God's  Inner  Circle. 


939 


Literature. 


Broughton  (L.  G.),  The  Soul-  Winning  Church,  50. 
Butler  (H.  M,),  University  and  Other  Sermons,  254. 
Darlow  (T.  H.),  The  Upward  Calling,  38. 
Edmunds  (L.),  Sunday  hy  Sunday,  193. 
Hutton  (J.  A.),  The  Fear  of  Things,  45. 
Landels  (W.),  Until  the  Day  Break,  24. 
Maclaren  (A.),  Last  Sheaves,  160. 
Norton  (J.  N.),  Every  Sunday,  257. 
Pearson  (A.),  The  Claims  of  the  Faith,  64. 
Pierson  (A.  T.),  TJie  Heights  of  the  Gospel,  63. 
Price  (A.  C),  Fifty  Sermons,  iv.  297  ;  viii.  73. 
Ealeigli  (A.),  Rest  from  Care  and  Sorrow,  1. 
Spurgeon  (C.  H.),  Till  He  Come,  23. 
Watkinson  (W.  L.),  The  Ashes  of  Roses,  114. 
Christian  World,  Nov.  10,  1910  (J.  H.  Jowett). 

Christian  World  Pulpit,  Ix.  378  (W.  Glover)  ;  Ixx.  285  (A.  S.  Renton) ; 

Ixxi.  219  (G.  H.  Morgan). 
Weekly  Pulpit,  i.  3  (P.  T.  Forsyth). 


GoD's  Inner  Circle. 


He  that  dwelleth  in  the  secret  place  of  the  Most  High 
Shall  abide  under  the  shadow  of  the  Almighty.— Ps.  xci.  i. 

The  beauty  of  the  language  of  this  poem  fitly  corresponds  to  the 
grandeur  of  the  thoughts  which  it  conveys.  The  Psalmist  here 
sings  "  to  one  clear  harp  in  divers  tones  " ;  and  the  central  thought 
which  he  exhibits  in  its  different  aspects  is  that  of  God's  response 
to  man.  For  every  advance  on  man's  part  there  is  an  immediate 
and  corresponding  advance  on  God's  part.  When  man  goes  out  to 
seek  God,  God  meets  him  more  than  half-way.  When  he  calls 
upon  God,  God  will  answer  him.  Loving  faith  on  man's  part  will 
be  met  by  faithful  love  on  the  part  of  God.  This  is  in  the  first 
verse,  of  which  the  whole  psalm  is  an  expansion.  If  man  dwells 
"  in  the  secret  place  of  the  Most  High,"  he  shall  abide  "  under  the 
shadow  of  the  Almighty."  We  have  here  the  condition  and 
promise. 

11  In  his  later  years,  Calvin's  colleague  at  Geneva  was 
Theodore  de  Beza  (1519-1605),  the  writer  of  the  metrical  version 
of  Psalm  Ixviii.,  which  was  the  battle-song  of  the  Huguenots. 
Taste  for  the  culture  of  the  Eenaissance,  passion  for  poetry, 
worldly  success  and  fame,  had  weakened  the  impression  of  the 
religious  training  of  his  youth.  A  dangerous  illness  revived  his 
former  feelings.  Escaping  from  the  bondage  of  Egypt,  as  he 
called  his  previous  life,  he  took  refuge  with  Calvin  at  Geneva. 
In  1548,  when  he  for  the  first  tim^e  attended  the  service  of  the 
Eeformed  Assembly,  the  congregation  was  singing  Psalm  xci., 
"  Whoso  dwelleth  under  the  defence  of  the  Most  High  shall  abide 
under  the  shadow  of  the  Almighty."  He  never  forgot  the  effect 
of  the  words.  They  supported  him  in  all  the  difficulties  of  his 
subsequent  life ;  they  conquered  his  fears,  and  gave  him  courage 
to  meet  every  danger.^ 

H  "  The  91st  Psalm  is  a  mountain  of  strength  to  all  believers  " ; 
80  General  Gordon  wrote  from  Gravesend  in  1869,  one  of  the  six 

1  R.  E.  Prothero,  Th&  Psalms  in  Human  Life,  1^- 
PS.  xxv.-cxix. — 1 6 


242  GOD'S  INNER  CIRCLE 


quiet  years  which  he  used  to  speak  of  as  the  happiest  of  his  life. 
Again,  thirteen  years  later,  in  January  1882,  he  wrote  thus  from 
Mauritius  :  "  I  dwell  more  or  less  (I  wish  it  were  more)  under  the 
shadow  of  the  Almighty." 


I. 

In  the  Secret  Place. 

1.  "  He  that  dwelleth  in  the  secret  place  of  the  Most  High." 
We  get  the  clearest  idea  of  the  meaning  of  this  phrase  by  an 
examination  of  the  different  passages  in  the  Psalms  where  the 
word  here  translated  "secret  place"  occurs.  Thus  in  Psalm 
xxxi.  20,  we  read :  "  Thou  shalt  hide  them  in  the  secret  of  thy 
presence";  also  in  Psalm  Ixxxiii.  3,  where  another  form  of  the 
same  word  occurs,  we  read  of  God's  "  hidden  ones."  From  these 
and  similar  passages  we  find  that  the  word  is  usually  connected 
with  the  idea  of  a  fugitive  hiding  from  his  pursuers.  It  calls  up 
before  us  the  picture  of  a  man  running  away  from  his  enemies. 
Weary  and  panting,  he  knows  not  where  to  hide  himself,  and  in 
his  despair  he  flees  to  some  friend  of  his  and  seeks  protection,  and 
the  friend  hides  him  in  a  secret  place.  The  fugitive  gives  his 
all  into  the  keeping  of  his  friend.  He  places  his  life  in  his  friend's 
hands,  and  he  has  now  power  of  life  and  death  over  him.  So, 
then,  the  man  who  dwells  in  "  the  secret  place  of  the  Most  High  " 
is  he  who  ventures  his  all  upon  God.  With  a  sure  and  steadfast 
trust,  with  a  simple  but  unwavering  faith,  he  gives  himself,  his 
all,  into  the  keeping  of  God.  He  surrenders  himself  to  God,  and 
by  that  very  act  he  is  taken  near  to  God ;  he  is  put  in  the  secret 
place  of  the  Most  High  and  becomes  one  of  "  God's  hidden  ones." 
By  his  act  of  absolute  self-surrender  he  has  attained  to  that  state 
which  the  Apostle  Paul  describes  in  language  very  similar  to  that 
of  the  Psalmist — only  going  a  little  further  than  the  latter  with 
his  imperfect  light  could  go — when  he  says,  "  Ye  died,  and  your 
new  life  is  hid  with  Christ  in  God." 

^  We  are  like  vessels  which  are  near  a  lee  shore  in  the  night. 
The  darkness  of  the  open  sea  is  safer  for  the  skilled  seaman  than 
the  line  of  the  shore.  Our  safety  is  to  stand  out  in  the  bosom  of 
the  dark ;  it  is  to  press  into  the  mysteries  of  God.    Why  is  it 


PSALM  xci.  I 


243 


that  our  moral  nature,  even  the  religious,  is  too  often  shallow  and 
poverty-stricken  ?  It  is  because  we  do  not  pursue  the  growing 
knowledge  of  God  on  our  own  account.  We  are  religious,  or  at 
least  we  are  always  in  danger  of  being  religious,  without  spiritual 
growth,  and  spiritual  growth  surely  means  spiritual  insight.  We 
cease  to  become  sensible  of  spiritual  enrichment.  We  come  to  a 
time  of  Kfe  when  we  are  content  to  say,  "  I  get  no  secrets  from 
God  now."  Eevelations  do  not  arrive ;  doors  are  not  opened  in 
Heaven ;  new  vistas  of  faith  do  not  spread  away  before  the  soul. 
Faith  runs  on  upon  the  level,  and  it  does  not  mount,  and  it  does 
not  soar.  God  becomes  by  habit  a  uniform  Presence  to  us.  He 
is  not  denied.  We  do  not  venture  to  deny  Him.  I  was  almost 
going  to  say  we  had  not  the  courage  to  deny  Him.  But,  at  any 
rate,  we  do  not  deny  Him.  We  only  disregard  Him,  like  the  air 
and  the  sky.  We  do  not  give  our  minds  seriously  and  deliberately 
to  realizing  Him.  We  do  not  pore  upon  Him  until  fold  after 
fold  removes,  and  depth  after  depth  opens,  and  we  look  into  His 
heart.    The  secret,  the  secret  of  the  Most  High  is  not  with  us.^ 

2.  While  this  is  the  general  idea,  it  is  possible  that  the  immedi- 
ate figure  of  "  the  secret  place  "  may  have  been  borrowed  from  the 
arrangements  and  appointments  of  the  Temple.  There  was  the  vast 
outside  world  stretching  on  every  side  beyond  the  Temple  walls ; 
then  the  outer  courts  of  the  Temple;  then  the  inner  chambers 
and  precincts ;  then  the  Holy  Place  with  its  golden  candlestick 
and  table  of  shewbread ;  and  last  of  all,  the  Holy  of  Holies,  the 
secret  place,  the  mystic  abiding-place  of  the  eternal  God.  And 
every  Jew  thought  reverently  and  almost  awfully  of  that  secret, 
silent  place  where  God  dwelt  between  the  cherubim.  He  turned 
towards  it,  he  worshipped  towards  it,  his  desire  moved  towards 
it;  it  was  the  mysterious  centre  of  his  adoration  and  service. 
And  that  arrangement  and  apportionment  of  the  Temple  became 
to  the  Psalmist  the  type  and  the  symbol  of  human  life.  Life 
could  be  all  outside,  or  it  could  spend  itself  in  outer  courts,  on  the 
mere  fringe  of  being,  or  it  could  have  a  secret  place  where  every- 
thing found  significance  and  interpretation  and  value  in  the 
mysterious  fellowship  of  God.  That  seems  to  be  the  primary 
meaning  of  life  "  in  the  secret  place  " ;  it  is  life  abandoning  the 
mere  outside  of  things,  refusing  to  dwell  in  the  outer  halls  and 
passages  of  the  stately  temple  of  being,  and  centralizing  itself  in 

1  P.  T.  Forsyth. 


244  GOD'S  INNER  CIRCLE 


that  mysterious  interior  of  things  where  "  cherubim  and  seraphim 
continually  do  cry,  Holy,  holy,  holy,  Lord  God  Almighty." 

■J  The  necessity  of  an  inward  stillness  hath  appeared  clear  to 
my  mind.  In  true  silence  strength  is  renewed,  and  the  mind  is 
weaned  from  all  things,  save  as  they  may  be  enjoyed  in  the  Divine 
will;  and  a  lowliness  in  outward  living,  opposite  to  worldly 
honour,  becomes  truly  acceptable  to  us.  In  the  desire  after 
outward  gain  the  mind  is  prevented  from  a  perfect  attention  to 
the  voice  of  Christ;  yet  being  weaned  from  all  things,  except 
as  they  may  be  enjoyed  in  the  Divine  will,  the  pure  light  shines 
into  the  soul.  Where  the  fruits  of  the  spirit  which  is  of  this 
world  are  brought  forth  by  many  who  profess  to  be  led  by  the 
Spirit  of  truth,  and  cloudiness  is  felt  to  be  gathering  over  the 
visible  church,  the  sincere  in  heart,  who  abide  in  true  stillness, 
and  are  exercised  therein  before  the  Lord  for  His  name's  sake, 
have  knowledge  of  Christ  in  the  fellowship  of  His  sufferings; 
and  inward  thankfulness  is  felt  at  times,  that  through  Divine 
love  our  own  wisdom  is  cast  out,  and  that  forward,  active  part  in 
us  is  subjected,  which  would  rise  and  do  something  without  the 
pure  leadings  of  the  spirit  of  Christ.^ 

^  Don't  be  too  much  taken  up  with  excitements  social  and 
intellectual.  The  depths  of  life  are  still  and  ought  not  to  be 
ruffled  by  every  wanton  breeze,  else  they  lose  the  capacity  which 
they  ought  to  possess  of  being  that  centre  of  rest,  and  peace,  and 
content,  to  which  we  can  withdraw  when  wearied  of  the  world 
which  is  too  much  with  us.  Life  to  be  worth  anything  at  all 
must  have  a  moral  basis.  After  all,  it  is  the  root  of  the  matter, 
unless  the  universe  was  made  in  jest.^ 

3.  The  Church  is,  in  God's  idea,  a  home  where  we  recover  from 
the  fatigue  of  effort,  when  we  take  a  new  hold  of  high  purposes 
from  which  our  hand  had  slackened ;  a  place  of  compensations ; 
a  place  from  which  we  see  our  life  more  truly,  for  we  see 
more  than  itself.  Here,  in  this  house,  we  may  feel  something, 
some  one,  even  God,  in  the  form  and  manner  of  Jesus  Christ, 
coming  between  us  and  the  things  which  would  dishearten  us  and 
work  despair.  Here  we  may  sit  under  a  shadow,  under  the  shadow 
of  thought  and  faith.  Here  we  may  come  under  the  rebuke  and 
deliverance  of  high  and  unworldly  considerations ;  here  we  may 
receive  the  emancipation  which  comes  the  moment  we  adopt  the 

^  The  Journal  of  John  Woolman,  29. 
'  Memoir  of  Robert  Herbert  Story ,  401. 


PSALM  xci.  I 


245 


spiritual  view  and  seek  not  our  own  will  but  the  will  of  God.  To 
seek  the  face  of  God  in  worship  is  the  instinct  of  the  soul  which  has 
become  aware  of  itself  and  its  surroundings.  Life  and  death  are 
the  great  preachers.  It  is  they  who  ring  the  church  bells.  That 
instinct  for  God,  that  instinct  for  the  shadow,  will  never  pass 
away.  It  may  only  become  perverted  and  debased.  The 
foundation — which  is  man's  need  for  God,  for  guidance,  for 
cleansing,  for  support,  and  that  again  is  but  God's  search  for  man, 
God's  overtures  to  man — the  foundation  standeth  sure. 

^  Whatever  temple  science  may  build  there  will  always  need 
to  be  hard  by  a  Gothic  chapel  for  wounded  souls.^ 

"  A  little  chamber "  built  "  upon  the  wall," 
With  stool  and  table,  candlestick  and  bed, 
Where  he  might  sit,  or  kneel,  or  lay  his  head 

At  night  or  sultry  noontide:  this  was  all 

A  prophet's  need:  but  in  that  chamber  small 

What  mighty  prayers  arose,  what  grace  was  shed, 
What  gifts  were  given — potent  to  wake  the  dead, 

And  from  its  viewless  flight  a  soul  recall! 

And  still  what  miracles  of  grace  are  wrought 
In  many  a  lonely  chamber  with  shut  door. 

Where  God  our  Father  is  in  secret  sought. 
And  shows  Himself  in  mercy  more  and  more! 

Dim  upper  rooms  with  God's  own  glory  shine. 

And  souls  are  lifted  to  the  life  Divine.^ 

4.  The  secret  place  is  not  to  be  limited  to  a  particular  locality, 
but  means  nearness  to  God,  the  close  fellowship  into  which  the 
soul  enters,  the  inner  circle  of  communion  in  which  the  soul 
realizes  vividly  the  Divine  presence.  Some  may  associate  such 
communion  with  one  locality,  and  some  with  another,  according 
to  their  individual  experience.  But  this  matters  not.  The 
essential  thing  is  the  nearness  of  the  soul  to  God,  its  entering 
into  His  presence  with  the  full  consciousness  that  He  graciously 
regards  it,  and  will  hear  its  prayer  and  accept  its  homage, 
breathing  its  feelings  and  desires  into  His  ear,  and  spreading  all 
its  case  before  Him.  His  is  not  that  distant  and  formal  inter- 
course which  one  man  may  hold  with  another  when,  in  the  open 

1  F.  Paulsen,  Ethics.  »  R.  Wilton. 


246  GOD'S  INNER  CIRCLE 


and  crowded  places  of  the  city,  they  have  to  restrain  themselves 
because  of  being  exposed  to  the  observation  of  others ;  it  is  that 
intimate  and  unrestrained  intercourse  which  friend  holds  with  friend 
when  they  meet  in  privacy,  where  no  other  eye  sees  or  ear  hears, 
and  each  communicates  to  the  other  not  the  things  which  are 
open  to  public  observation,  but  the  secret  and  hidden  feelings  of 
the  heart.  Eeverently,  although  freely  and  confidently,  does  the 
worshipper  in  the  secret  place  speak  to  God  as  a  child  to  its 
father,  giving  expression  to  all  his  feelings,  whatsoever  they  may 
be. 

^  "  Fellowship  with  the  living  God,"  says  Andrew  Bonar  in 
his  graphic  little  sketch  of  Samuel  Eutherford,  "  is  a  little  dis- 
tinguishing feature  in  the  holiness  given  by  the  Holy  Ghost.  .  .  . 
Rutherford  could  sometimes  say,  *  I  have  been  so  near  Him,  that 
I  have  said  I  take  instruments  (documents  by  way  of  attestation) 
that  this  is  the  Lord,'  and  he  could  from  experience  declare,  *  I 
dare  avouch,  the  saints  know  not  the  length  and  largeness  of 
the  sweet  earnest,  and  of  the  sweet  green  sheaves  before  the 
harvest,  that  might  be  had  on  this  side  of  the  water,  if  we  only 
took  more  pains.'  .  .  .  All  this,"  adds  Bonar  suggestively,  "  is 
from  the  pen  of  a  man  who  was  a  metaphysician,  a  controversialist, 
a  leader  in  the  Church,  and  learned  in  ancient  scholastic  lore." 

Where  is  that  secret  place  of  the  Most  High  ? 
And  who  is  He  ?    Where  shall  we  look  for  Him 
That  dwelleth  there?    Between  the  cherubim, 
That  o'er  the  seat  of  grace,  with  constant  eye, 
And  outspread  wing,  brood  everlastingly? 
Or  shall  we  seek  that  deeper  meaning  dim, 
And  as  we  may,  walk,  flutter,  soar,  and  swim, 
From  deep  to  deep  of  the  void,  fathomless  sky  ? 
Oh !  seek  not  there  the  secret  of  the  Lord 
In  what  hatli  been,  or  what  may  never  be; 
But  seek  the  shadow  of  the  mystic  word — 
The  shadow  of  a  truth  thou  canst  not  see: 
There  build  thy  nest,  and,  like  a  nestling  bird, 
Find  all  thy  safety  in  thy  secrecy.^ 

5.  How  are  we  to  maintain  our  life  of  fellowship  with  God  ? 
How  arc  we  to  dwell  in  the  Secret  Place  ?  The  Psalmist  doubt- 
less would  find  guidance  in  the  ways  and  ministries  of  the  Temple. 

^  Hartley  Coleridge. 


PSALM  xci.  I 


247 


(1)  The  spirit  of  reverence  must  be  cherished.  There  was  to 
be  no  tramping  in  the  sacred  courts.  He  was  to  move  quietly,  as 
in  the  presence  of  something  august  and  unspeakable.  And  that 
is  the  very  first  requisite  if  we  would  dwell  in  the  secret  place — 
the  reverent  spirit  and  the  reverent  step.  The  man  who  strides 
through  life  with  flippant  tramp  will  never  get  beyond  the  outer 
courts.  He  may  "  get  on,"  he  will  never  "  get  in  " ;  he  may  find 
here  and  there  an  empty  shell,  he  will  never  find  "  the  pearl  of 
great  price."  Irreverence  can  never  open  the  gate  into  the  secret 
place. 

(2)  The  second  thing  requisite  in  the  Temple  ministry  to 
any  one  who  sought  the  fellowship  of  the  secret  place  was  the 
spirit  of  sacrifice.  No  man  was  permitted  to  come  empty-handed 
in  his  movements  towards  the  secret  place.  "  Bring  an  offering, 
and  come  into  his  courts."  And  in  that  Temple-ministry  the 
Psalmist  would  recognize  another  of  the  essential  requisites  if  he 
would  dwell  in  the  secret  place.  That  offering  meant  that  a  man 
must  surrender  all  that  he  possesses,  of  gifts  and  goods,  to  his 
quest  of  the  central  things  of  life.  For  there  is  this  strange 
thing  about  the  strait  gate  which  opens  into  the  secret  place :  it 
is  too  strait  for  the  man  who  brings  nothing ;  it  is  abundantly 
wide  for  the  man  who  brings  his  all.  No  man  deserves  the 
hallowed  intimacies  of  life,  the  holy  tabernacle  of  the  Most  High, 
who  does  not  bring  upon  the  errand  all  that  he  is,  and  all  that  he 
has.    Life's  crown  demands  life's  all. 

(3)  And  other  Temple-ministries  in  which  the  Psalmist  would 
find  principles  of  guidance  would  be  the  requirement  of  prayer 
and  praise.  "  Sing  unto  the  Lord  a  new  song."  Such  was  to  be 
one  of  the  exercises  of  those  who  sought  the  grace  and  favour  of 
the  holy  place.  They  were  to  come  wearing  the  garment  of 
praise.  And  therefore  the  Psalmist  knew  that  praise  was  to  be 
one  of  the  means  by  which  he  was  to  possess  the  intimacies 
of  the  secret  place.  And  praise  is  still  one  of  the  ministries  by 
which  we  reach  the  central  heart  of  things,  the  hallowed  abode 
where  we  come  to  share  "  the  secret  of  the  Lord."  And  praise  is 
not  fawning  upon  God,  flattering  Him,  piling  up  words  of  empty 
eulogy ;  it  is  the  hallowed  contemplation  of  the  greatness  of  God, 
and  the  grateful  appreciation  of  the  goodness  of  God.  And  with 
praise  there  goes  prayer — the  recognition  of  our  dependence  upon 


248  GOD'S  INNER  CIRCLE 


the  Highest,  the  fellowship  of  desire,  the  humble  speech  which  co- 
operates in  the  reception  and  distribution  of  grace. 

^  "  I  passed  my  time  in  great  peace,  content  to  spend  the 
remainder  of  my  life  there,  if  such  should  be  the  will  of  God.  I 
employed  part  of  my  time  in  writing  religious  songs.  I,  and  my 
maid  La  Gautiere,  who  was  with  me  in  prison,  committed  them 
to  heart  as  fast  as  I  made  them.  Together  we  sang  praises  to 
Thee,  0  our  God  !  It  sometimes  seemed  to  me  as  if  I  were  a  little 
bird  whom  the  Lord  had  placed  in  a  cage,  and  that  I  had  nothing 
to  do  now  but  to  sing.  The  joy  of  my  heart  gave  a  brightness  to 
the  objects  around  me.  The  stones  of  my  prison  looked  in  my 
eyes  like  rubies,  f  esteemed  them  more  than  all  the  gaudy 
brilliancies  of  a  vain  world.  My  heart  was  full  of  that  joy  which 
Thou  givest  to  them  who  love  Thee  in  the  midst  of  their  greatest 
crosses."  ^ 

Let  praise  devote  thy  work  and  skill  employ 
Thy  whole  mind,  and  thy  heart  be  lost  in  joy. 
Well-doing  bringeth  pride,  this  constant  thought 
Humility,  that  thy  best  done  is  naught. 
Man  doeth  nothing  well,  be  it  great  or  small. 
Save  to  praise  God ;  but  that  hath  saved  all : 
For  God  requires  no  more  than  thou  hast  done, 
And  takes  thy  work  to  bless  it  for  His  own.^ 

^  The  wise  man  will  act  like  the  bee,  and  he  will  fly  out  in 
order  to  settle  with  care,  intelligence,  and  prudence  on  all  the 
gifts  and  on  all  the  sweetness  which  he  has  experienced,  and  on 
all  the  good  which  God  has  done  to  him ;  and  through  the  rays 
of  the  sun  and  his  own  inward  observation  he  will  experience  a 
multitude  of  consolations  and  blessings.  And  he  will  not  rest  on 
any  flower  of  all  these  gifts,  but,  laden  with  gratitude  and  praise, 
he  will  fly  back  again  toward  the  home  in  which  he  longs  to 
dwell  and  rest  for  evermore  with  God.^ 

IL 

Under  His  Shadow. 

The  man  who  commits  himself  to  God,  and  dwells  in  Him, 
has  this  promise,  that  he  will  abide  under  the  shadow  of  the 
Almighty.    There  are  two  names  of  God  used  in  the  text,  "  The 

1  Madame  Guyon,  in  Life^  by  T.  C.  Upham.  *  R.  Bridges. 

8  M.  Maeterlinck,  Ruyshroeck  and  the  Mystics,  130. 


PSALM  xci.  I 


249 


Most  High  "  and  "  The  Almighty  "  ;  and  when  we  remember  the 
deep  religious  significance  which  the  different  names  of  God  had 
for  the  Hebrew,  and  the  careful  way  in  which  they  are  used 
throughout  the  whole  of  the  Old  Testament,  so  that  in  general 
it  is  true  that  that  name  of  God  is  used  which  alone  serves  to 
indicate  the  particular  aspect  of  God's  character  or  government 
upon  which  the  writer  wished  to  lay  stress ;  when  we  remember 
this,  we  are  justified  in  looking  for  a  meaning  in  the  distinction 
between  the  two  names  of  God  used  here.  The  man  to  whom  the 
promise  is  made  seeks  to  dwell  in  the  secret  place  of  "  the  Most 
High."  He  seeks  to  be  near  God  as  the  "  Most  High  "  God,  the 
God  of  surpassing  excellence.  He  desires  the  company  of  Him 
who  is  "  Most  High  "  because  He  is  most  holy.  The  character 
which  he  contemplates  in  God  is  not  so  much  His  power  as  His 
holiness.  He  desires  to  be  near  God,  not  because  of  what  God 
can  do  for  him,  but  because  of  what  God  is ;  it  is  in  the  thought 
of  God's  goodness  that  he  rests  secure.  It  is  the  holiness  of 
Jehovah  that  attracts  him  ;  it  is  the  beauty  of  the  Lord  his  God 
that  he  would  behold  continually.  To  the  man  who  thus  disin- 
terestedly seeks  after  Him  God  will  reveal  Himself  in  the  character 
of  the  Almighty.  The  power  of  the  Almighty  shall  be  round  about 
him.  "  Because  he  hath  set  his  love  upon  me,  therefore  will  I  de- 
liver him ;  I  will  set  him  on  high,  because  he  hath  known  my  name." 
This  man  is  to  "  abide  under  the  shadow  of  the  Almighty." 

This  wonderful  Psalm  has  always  been  a  favourite  with  the 
Mystic  and  the  Quietist.  For  it  expresses  what  we  may  call  the 
Beatitude  of  the  Inner  Circle.  Most  religions  have  distinguished 
carefully  between  the  rank  and  file  of  the  faithful,  and  that  select 
company  of  initiates  who  taste  the  hidden  wisdom  and  have  access 
to  the  secret  shrine.  From  the  nature  of  the  case  some  such 
distinction  exists  even  in  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven.  Christ  Him- 
self allowed  a  difference  between  "  His  own  friends "  and  those 
many  disciples  who  are  servants  still.  Only  we  must  never  forget 
on  what  this  difference  depends.  The  Father,  who  is  Lord  of 
heaven  and  earth,  has  seen  good  to  hide  His  secrets  from  the  wise 
and  prudent,  and  to  reveal  them  unto  babes.  While  from  the 
inmost  sanctuary  of  Christian  experience  a  Voice  cries  continually, 
"  Whosoever  will  let  him  come  freely — if  he  be  content  to  come 
as  a  little  child."  ^ 

1  T.  H.  Darlow,  The  Upwa/rd  Calling,  38. 


250  GOD'S  INNER  CIRCLE 


1.  What  does  the  Psalmist  mean  by  "abiding  under  the 
shadow  "  ?  Does  he  mean  to  say  that  the  shadow  of  the  Almighty 
rests  on  the  secret  place  ?  At  first  sight  it  would  seem  so,  but 
such  a  conclusion  would  not  be  in  harmony  with  the  trend  of 
thought  throughout  the  Psalm.  What  he  appears  really  to  teach 
is  that,  when  a  man  regularly  communes  with  God  in  secret,  then, 
wherever  he  goes,  the  shadow  of  the  Almighty  shall  rest  upon 
him,  and  in  times  of  trial  and  danger  shall  shelter  and  protect 
him.  As  the  pillar  of  cloud  by  day  and  the  pillar  of  fire  by  night 
went  before  the  children  of  Israel,  and  was  both  a  guide  and  a 
shelter  to  them,  so  the  shadow  of  the  Almighty  shall  ever  rest  upon 
those  who  dwell  in  the  secret  place  of  the  Most  High.  A  shadow 
is  produced  when  some  object  intercepts  the  light.  Here  it  re- 
presents God  placing  Himself  in  front  of  the  sun,  to  screen  His 
people  from  heat.  The  sun  shall  not  smite  them  by  day,  nor  the 
moon  by  night. 

^  The  last  poems  of  Miss  Havergal  are  published  with  the 
title.  Under  His  Shadow,  and  the  preface  gives  the  reason  for  the 
name.  She  said,  "  I  should  like  the  title  to  be,  Under  His  Shadow. 
I  seem  to  see  four  pictures  by  that :  under  the  shadow  of  a  rock 
in  a  weary  plain ;  under  the  shadow  of  a  tree ;  closer  still,  under 
the  shadow  of  His  wing ;  nearest  and  closest,  in  the  shadow  of 
His  hand.  Surely  that  hand  must  be  the  pierced  hand,  that  may 
oftentimes  press  us  sorely,  and  yet  evermore  encircling,  upholding, 
and  shadowing."  ^ 

2.  Now  it  is  one  thing  to  be  touched  by  the  shadow  of  the 
Almighty,  another  to  abide  within  that  shadow.  One  has  not 
lived  long,  or  has  lived  only  on  the  surface,  who  has  never  for  a 
moment  been  touched  by  the  shadow  of  God.  It  may  have  fallen 
upon  us  in  one  or  other  of  several  experiences.  It  may  have  come 
to  us  in  some  reverse  of  fortune,  in  some  change  in  our  prospects. 
Or  it  may  have  come  to  us  in  some  bodily  illness  or  the  threaten- 
ing of  some  illness.  Or  it  may  have  come  to  us,  as  so  much  with 
regard  to  the  unseen  world  comes  to  us  all,  in  the  great  silence 
of  a  bereavement.  But  there  is  probably  not  one  of  adult  years 
who  has  not  had  at  least  one  experience  which  has  touched  him 
to  the  quick  and  has  brought  him  for  the  time  being  face  to  face 
with  God.    And  yet,  if  we  are  strict  with  ourselves,  we  shall  have 

»  C.  H.  Spurgeon,  Till  He  Comet  23. 


PSALM  xci.  I 


251 


to  confess  that  as  the  trouble  eased  the  high  seriousness  which  it 
brought  began  to  pass  away,  so  that  probably  not  one  of  us  has 
worked  out  into  our  life  and  character  the  holy  intentions  which 
we  proposed  to  ourselves  on  a  certain  day  when  our  heart  was 
sore.  We  have  lost  from  ourselves  a  certain  dignity,  a  certain 
superiority  to  the  world  which  was  ours  in  days  that  we  can  still 
recall,  when  some  suspense  was  keeping  our  heart  open,  when  in 
some  precious  concern  of  our  life  we  were  depending  utterly  upon 
God  for  something.  To  be  touched — that  is  the  work  of  God,  the 
work  of  life  upon  us ;  whereas  to  abide  requires  the  consent  of  our 
will.  In  order  to  abide  it  needs  that  the  whole  man,  who  knows 
that  in  the  personal  crisis  God  was  singling  him  out,  shall  live 
henceforth  by  the  wisdom  and  calling  of  that  hour.  It  needs 
that  he  shall  depart  from  all  the  iniquity  which  the  light  of  that 
holy  hour  revealed  to  him. 

II  The  original  meaning  of  the  word  here  translated  "  abide  " 
is  "  to  wrap  up  in  a  garment  for  warmth  and  rest  during  the  cool 
of  the  night."  The  reflexive  form  of  the  verb  is  here  used :  "  He 
that  dwelleth  in  the  secret  place  of  the  Most  High  shall  wrap 
himself  round  in  the  shadow  of  the  God  of  Might."  Nearness  to 
God  is  to  be  to  him  as  the  garment  which  the  traveller  wraps 
around  him  as  he  goes  to  sleep  in  the  desert,  when  the  chills  of 
night  descend.  God's  immediate  presence  is  to  be  wrapped  round 
about  him  for  his  protection.^ 

3.  God's  protection  does  not  mean  exemption  from  outward 
calamities.  But  there  is  an  evil  in  the  calamity  that  will  never 
come  near  the  man  who  is  sheltered  under  God's  wing.  The 
physical  external  event  may  be  entirely  the  same  to  him  as  to 
another  who  is  not  covered  with  His  feathers.  Here  are  two 
partners  in  a  business ;  the  one  is  a  Christian  man,  and  the  other  is 
not.  A  common  disaster  overwhelms  them.  They  become  bank- 
rupts. Is  insolvency  the  same  to  the  one  as  it  is  to  the  other  ? 
Here  are  two  men  on  board  a  ship,  the  one  putting  his  trust  in 
God,  the  other  thinking  it  all  nonsense  to  trust  anything  but  him- 
self. They  are  both  drowned.  Is  drowning  the  same  to  the  two  ? 
As  their  corpses  lie  side  by  side,  you  may  say  of  the  one,  but  only 
of  the  one,  "There  shall  no  evil  befall  thee,  neither  shall  any 

^  A.  S.  Renton. 


252 


GOD'S  INNER  CIRCLE 


plague  come  nigh  thy  dwelling."  For  the  protection  that  is 
granted  to  faith  is  to  be  understood  only  by  faith. 

T[  "  If  you  believe  in  God,"  wrote  Eobert  Louis  Stevenson, 
"  where  is  there  any  more  room  for  terror  ?  If  you  are  sure  that 
God,  in  the  long-run,  means  kindness  by  you,  you  should  be 
happy."  Fighting  a  losing  battle  with  death,  he  wrote:  "The 
tragedy  of  things  works  itself  out  blacker  and  blacker.  Does  it 
shake  my  cast-iron  faith  ?  I  cannot  say  that  it  does.  I  believe  in 
an  ultimate  decency  of  things ;  aye,  and  if  I  woke  in  hell,  should 
still  believe  it."  Let  us  thank  God  for  the  faith  of  that  high  and 
brave  soldier  of  suffering,  going  up  and  down  the  earth  in  quest 
of  health,  and  singing  as  he  went : 

If  to  feel  in  the  ink  of  the  slough, 

And  sink  of  the  mire. 

Veins  of  glory  and  fire 

Eun  through  and  transpierce  and  transpire, 

And  a  secret  purpose  of  glory  in  every  part. 

And  the  answering  glory  of  l3attle  fill  my  heart; 

To  thrill  with  the  joy  of  girded  men, 

To  go  on  forever  and  fail  and  go  on  again, 

And  be  mauled  to  the  earth  and  arise. 

And  contend  for  the  shade  of  a  word  and  a  thing  not 

seen  with  the  eyes: 
With  the  half  of  a  broken  hope  for  a  pillow  at  night; 
That  somehow  the  right  is  the  right 
And  the  smooth  shall  bloom  from  the  rough : 
Lord,  if  that  were  enough? 

4.  But  the  promise  is  absolutely  true  in  a  far  higher  region 
— the  region  of  spiritual  defence.  For  no  man  who  lies  under 
the  shadow  of  God,  and  has  his  heart  filled  with  the  continual 
consciousness  of  that  Presence,  is  likely  to  fall  before  the  assaults 
of  evil  that  tempt  him  away  from  God ;  and  the  defence  which 
He  gives  in  that  region  is  yet  more  magnificently  impregnable 
than  the  defence  which  He  gives  against  external  evils.  For,  as 
the  New  Testament  teaches  us,  we  are  kept  from  sin,  not  by  any 
outward  breastplate  or  armour,  not  even  by  the  Divine  wing  lying 
above  us  to  cover  us,  but  by  the  indwelling  Christ  in  our  hearts. 
His  Spirit  within  us  makes  us  "  free  from  the  law  of  sin  and  death," 
and  conquerors  over  all  temptations.  Every  step  taken  into  a 
higher,  holier  life  secures  a  completer  immunity  from  the  power 


PSALM  xci.  I 


253 


of  evil.  Virtucally  there  is  no  temptation  to  those  who  climb  high 
enough ;  they  still  suffer  the  trial  of  their  faith  and  principle, 
but  they  have  no  evil  thought,  no  affinity  with  evil ;  it  exercises 
over  them  no  fascination ;  it  is  to  them  as  though  it  were  not. 
Never  deal  with  temptation  on  low  utilitarian  grounds  of  health, 
reputation,  or  interest.  If  you  have  a  vice,  convict  it  at  Sinai ; 
arraign  it  at  the  bar  of  the  Judgment  Day ;  make  it  ashamed  of 
itself  at  the  feet  of  Christ ;  blind  it  with  heaven ;  scorch  it  with 
hell ;  take  it  into  the  upper  air  where  it  cannot  get  its  breath,  and 
choke  it. 

And  chok'st  thou  not  him  in  the  upper  air 
His  strength  he  will  still  on  the  earth  repair. 

^  Migratory  birds  invisible  to  the  eye  have  been  detected  by 
the  telescope  crossing  the  disc  of  the  sun  six  miles  above  the  earth. 
They  have  found  one  of  the  secret  places  of  the  Most  High ;  far 
above  the  earth,  invisible  to  the  human  eye,  hidden  in  the  light, 
they  were  delightfully  safe  from  the  fear  of  evil.  Thus  it  is  with 
the  soul  that  soars  into  the  heavenly  places ;  no  arrow  can  reach 
it,  no  fowler  betray  it,  no  creature  of  prey  make  it  afraid:  it 
abides  in  the  shadow  of  the  Almighty.^ 

How  good  it  is,  when  weaned  from  all  beside, 
With  God  alone  the  soul  is  satisfied. 

Deep  hidden  in  His  heart ! 
How  good  it  is,  redeemed,  and  washed,  and  shriven, 
To  dwell,  a  cloistered  soul,  with  Christ  in  heaven. 

Joined,  never  more  to  part ! 
How  good  the  heart's  still  chamber  thus  to  close 

On  all  but  God  alone — 
There  in  the  sweetness  of  His  love  repose. 

His  love  unknown ! 
All  else  for  ever  lost — forgotten  all 

That  else  can  be ; 
In  rapture  undisturbed,  0  Lord,  to  fall 

And  worship  Thee.^ 

^  W.  L.  Watkinson,  The  Ashes  of  Roses,  117. 
8  Frances  Bevan,  Hymns  of  Tcr  Steegcn,  36. 


Strength  and  Beauty. 


«S5 


Literature. 


Goodwin  (H.),  Parish  Sermons,  iv.  95. 
Holden  (J.  S.),  Life's  Flood-Tide,  172. 

Kirkpatrick  (A.  F.),  The  Booh  of  Psalms  (Cambridge  Bible),  577. 

Maclaren  (A.),  The  Booh  of  Psalms  (Expositor's  Bible),  iii.  65. 

Purves  (G.  T.),  Faith  and  Life,  177. 

Simpson  (A.  L.),  The  Near  and  the  Far  VieWy  219. 

Wilson  (F.  E,.),  The  Supreme  Service,  15. 

Wirgman  (A.  T.),  The  Spirit  of  Liberty,  104. 

Christian  World  Pulpit,  xlviii.  180  (F.  L.  Goodspeed) ;  liii.  157  (C.  S. 
Home) ;  Ixii.  238  (W.  J.  K.  Little) ;  Ixx.  23  (J.  Waddell) ;  Ixxiv.  " 
147  (F.  Tite). 

Churchman's  Pulpit  :  Harvest  Thanksgiving  and  Choir  Festivals,  Pt. 
99,  p.  399  (G.  A.  Poole). 


i 


Strength  and  Beauty. 


Strength  and  beauty  are  in  his  sanctuary.— Ps.  xcvi.  6. 

The  Psalmist,  in  that  lyrical  outburst  of  adoration  from  which  the 
text  is  taken,  professes  to  have  discovered  two  qualities  which 
are  revealed  in  combination  in  the  character  of  God,  and  which, 
such  is  the  suggestion.  He  will  Himself  communicate  to  devout, 
worshipful,  and  aspiring  souls.  These  two  qualities  are  strength 
and  beauty.  Neither  quality  is  of  itself  uncommon ;  it  is  their 
combination  that  is  so  rare.  Somehow  in  this  world  the  strong 
is  not  usually  the  beautiful,  and  the  beautiful  is  not  the  strong. 
We  think  of  the  beautiful  in  nature  as  the  fragile,  the  delicate, 
the  evanescent.  We  think  of  the  strong,  and  with  its  massive 
solidity  it  is  difficult  to  associate  any  thought  of  grace  and  loveli- 
ness. But  this  psalm  was  a  hymn  for  the  Temple ;  and  if  it  be 
true,  as  we  suppose,  that  there  yet  remained  many  of  the  glorious 
pillars  which  adorned  that  magnificent  structure,  it  is  conceivable 
that  they  suggested  to  the  Psalmist's  mind  this  rare  combination 
of  qualities.  For  these  pillars  of  the  Temple  were  of  radiant 
marble,  stately  and  splendid  in  themselves,  and  with  the  added 
decoration  of  capitals  nobly  carved  in  all  manners  of  exquisite 
device.  And  not  the  pillars  alone,  but  the  whole  majestic  pile 
itself,  was  it  not  the  standing  witness  to  the  truth  that  the  God 
whom  it  represented  to  men  was  at  once  strong  and  beautiful  ? 
For  its  durability  and  solidity  was  equalled  only  by  its  magnifi- 
cence ;  the  strength  of  its  stone  by  the  beauty  of  its  colouring  and 
the  glory  of  its  decoration.  The  architects  of  that  ancient  cathedral 
seem  to  have  derived  their  ideas  from  nature ;  and  to  have  seen 
that  He  who  laid  the  enduring  foundations  of  the  earth  decorated 
.the  world  which  He  made  with  the  gold  of  the  crocus,  the  crimson 
iof  the  field-lily,  or  the  blue  of  the  gentian  and  the  harebell;  and 
they  built  for  Him  a  fane  which,  like  the  world  He  built  for  fehem, 
PS,  xxv.-cxix.  — 17 

i 


258  STRENGTH  AND  BEAUTY 


was  strong  and  beautiful,  massive,  but  full  of  delicate  colour.  As 

was  this  temple  of  their  God,  so  was  the  God  of  the  Temple — 
in  His  Divine  Being  they  felt  there  must  be  this  glorious  com- 
bination of  strength  and  beauty. 

^  If  it  was  Solomon's  temple  of  which  the  Hebrew  writer  of 
this  psalm  spoke,  we  can  imagine  some  of  the  features  which  he 
must  have  had  in  mind.  The  immense  blocks  of  stone,  of  which 
the  foundation  was  composed,  and  the  great  Lebanon  cedars  which 
were  brought  by  Hiram,  king  of  Tyre,  explain  the  reference  to  the 
strength  of  the  building.  Though  not  large,  it  was  a  solid,  massive 
structure,  built  to  last  through  ages,  while  the  foundations  them- 
selves rested  on  imperishable  rock.  And  then  the  resources  of 
art  were  exhausted  to  make  it  beautiful  as  well  as  strong.  The 
interior  was  overlaid  with  pure  gold,  on  which  were  carved  figures 
of  cherubim  and  palm  trees  and  flowers.  All  the  utensils  of 
worship  were  of  the  same  costly  metal  and  elaborately  orna- 
mented ;  while  precious  stones  gleamed  amid  the  gold  and  Tyrian 
tapestries  hung  on  every  side.  The  wealthiest  of  kings  lavished 
his  riches;  the  most  sldlled  artificers  taxed  their  art;  the  ad- 
venturous mariners  laid  tribute  upon  distant  lands  to  make 
beautiful  the  Temple  of  Jehovah.  It  thus  seemed  to  combine  the 
two  elements  of  architectural  perfection — strength  and  beauty.^ 

1. 

Strength. 

1.  It  is  better  that  a  building  should  be  strong  than  that  it 
should  be  ornamental.  And  the  same  is  true  of  character  also. 
Ornament,  moreover,  ought  to  accompany  strength.  It  is  not 
good  art  to  put  into  a  building  a  useless  feature  merely  because 
it  is  beautiful.  The  true  artist  will  beautify  the  useful.  The 
practical  purpose  will  be  first.  So  a  character  which  aims  only 
to  be  beautiful  is  not  to  be  admired.  It  merely  becomes  bric-^- 
brac.  It  has  the  taint  of  cosmetics.  The  man  who  is  absorbed  in 
the  mere  adornment  of  his  character  is  not  much  beyond  the  man 
who  is  absorbed  in  the  adornment  of  his  body.  No,  beauty  must 
be  superimposed  upon  strength.  The  practical  usefulness  and 
moral  power  of  life  are  to  be  the  first  things  sought.    Then  you 

1  G.  T.  Purves,  Faith  and  Life,  177. 


PSALM  xcvi.  6 


259 


have  something  worth  adorning.  It  is  the  hard  stone  that  takes 
the  best  polish.  It  is  the  strong,  earnest  character  that  may  be 
made  the  most  beautiful. 

^  In  the  life  of  Archbishop  Temple  we  read  :  "  He  stands  out 
from  amongst  the  men  of  his  day,  a  notable  figure,  unlike  others, 
cast  in  a  larger  mould,  nobler  than  most,  more  self-reliant, 
more  absolutely  incapable  of  doing  anything  mean  or  of  acting 
from  self-interested  motives;  he  worked  harder  and  longer;  he 
was  more  unworldly;  he  grasped  more  firmly  the  substance 
of  life ;  he  was  a  greater  man ;  but  a  man  nevertheless,  working 
with  and  for  his  fellows,  compelling  the  admiration  of  all,  but 
winning  most  love  from  those  who  knew  best  the  man's  heart 
within  him.  To  the  elders  who  are  left  he  is  a  great  memory, 
and  as  they  look  back  and  realize  to  what  extent  they  lived  in 
him  they  fancy  that  life  now  lies  behind  them.  But  it  was  a  real 
hfe  which  they  shared,  and  it  still  remains  ;  for  it  belonged  to  the 
eternal  world,  and  is  of  those  things  '  which  cannot  be  moved.' 
Even  its  methods  will  last  long;  they  had  always  about  them 
something  of  the  enduring  spirit  of  the  man.  And  thus  the  life 
points  onward  and  has  a  meaning  for  those  who  are  young.  The 
air  of  perpetual  spring  blows  round  the  old  man's  grave:  the 
cnemory  speaks  reality  and  hope,  and  these  are  the  memories 
tvhich  live."  ^  Yet  to  those  who  knew  him  best  his  strength  was 
aot  more  notable  than  the  depth  and  tenderness  of  his  affections. 

2.  Some  foolish  people  associate  religion  with  weakness. 
Perhaps  some  weak  Christians  are  responsible  for  this.  But 
}here  is  nothing  weak  about  true  religion.  The  man  who  lays 
lOld  upon  God  is  strong.  "  Strong  in  the  Lord,  and  in  the  power 
)f  his  might."  There  is  nothing  weak  about  faith.  It  can 
-emove  mountains ;  it  can  carry  men  through  fire  and  water,  and 
las  inspired  the  noblest  heroism  that  the  world  has  ever  seen. 
Chere  is  nothing  weak  about  truth  or  righteousness.  Falseness  is 
veak ;  unrighteousness  is  weak.  But  to  be  really  good  is  to  be 
itrong.  In  the  Bible  weakness  is  not  pitied  but  condemned,  and 
ihe  watchword  to  believers  over  and  over  again  is  "  Be  strong ! " 
Che  great  essential  of  Christian  character  is  strength — strength 
0  overcome  evil  and  to  labour  for  the  good  of  others. 

H  In  February,  1865,  Dr.  Punshon  delivered  in  Exeter  Hall 
lis  famous  lecture  on  William  Wilberforce,  the  thoroughness 
»f  whose  religious  decision  was  thus  referred  to:  "With  the 
*  Frederick  Temple,  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  ii.  711. 


26o  STRENGTH  AND  BEAUTY 


accidents  of  birth  and  station  in  his  favour,  with  youth  upon 
his  side,  fortune  at  his  feet,  and  fame  and  jjower  within  the 
grasp  of  his  outstretched  hand — when  life  was  in  its  summer, 
and  he  was  compassed,  so  to  speak,  with  its  gladness,  and  music, 
and  flowers — with  everything  at  hand  which  it  is  deemed  the 
most  costly  to  surrender — he  stepped  forth  in  the  sight  of  the 
world,  for  which  his  name  had  already  a  charm,  took  the  crown  of 
his  manhood,  and  laid  it  humbly  at  the  feet  of  Christ.  I  can  see 
in  the  act  a  courage  of  that  sort  which  is  the  truest  and  rarest, 
but  which  is,  notwithstanding,  within  the  reach  of  you  all.  The 
true  idea  of  power  is  not  embodied  in  Hercules  or  Samson,  brute 
forces  with  brute  appetites,  takers  of  strong  cities,  but  slaves  to 
their  own  passion.  Nor  is  it  in  the  brave  soldier  who  can  storm 
a  fortress  at  the  point  of  the  bayonet,  but  who  yields  his  man- 
hood to  the  enticements  of  sinners,  and  hides  the  faith  which  the 
scoffer's  sneer  has  made  him  frightened  to  avow.  The  real  power 
is  there  when  a  man  has  mastered  himself,  when  he  has  trampled 
upon  the  craven  and  the  shameful  in  all  their  disguises,  and  when, 
ready  on  all  fit  occasions  to  bear  himself  worthily  among  his 
fellows  and  '  give  the  world  assurance  of  a  man,'  he  dares  to  say 
to  that  world,  the  while  it  scorns  and  slanders  him, '  I  will  not 
serve  thy  gods,  nor  worship  the  golden  image  which  thou  hast  set 
up.'"i 

3.  A  man  who  loves  and  trusts  God  cannot  but  be  a  strong 
character.  He  will  not  be  easily  moved  by  any  temptation.  He 
will  not  be  unduly  anxious  about  the  future.  He  will  be  in  no 
hurry.  He  will  have  the  calm  assurance  that,  be  the  present 
mysteries  what  they  may,  all  is  going  well.  And  he  will  feel  that 
his  life  is  inseparably  linked  with  the  Highest  One  Himself. 
"Love  is  strong  as  death,"  says  the  old  writer;  and  if  we  see 
instances  of  the  love  of  man  to  man  in  which  this  is  true,  much 
more  is  it  true  that  in  proportion  as  a  human  soul  loves  God  will 
it  be  firm  against  evil  and  strong  for  all  good.  The  mighty 
granite  masses  out  of  which  we  quarry  the  material  for  our  great 
buildings  were  once  in  a  fluid,  molten  state,  but  they  have 
crystallized  into  the  hardest  of  rocks.  So  will  belief  in  God  and 
Christ,  and  love  to  God  in  Christ,  crystallize  a  soul  into  the 
strongest  of  characters. 

^  Unwearied  in  their  efforts  to  prevent  Luther's  appearance, 
the  papal  ambassadors  had  at  last  succeeded  in  procuring  an 
*  F.  W.  Macdonakl,  Life  of  IF.  Morley  Funshon,  229. 


PSALM  xcvi.  6 


261 


Imperial  edict  for  the  delivery  and  burning  of  Luther's  books. 
This  was  practically  a  condemnation  in  advance,  and  seemed  to 
render  Luther's  presence  unnecessary;  but  the  Emperor  tried 
to  steer  between  the  two  parties  by  saying  that  Luther  was 
summoned  only  for  the  purpose  of  having  him  recant.  At 
Weimar  this  edict  reached  him,  and  its  intention  was  immediately 
seen.  The  Imperial  herald,  who  was  favourably  disposed  to 
Luther,  asked  whether  he  would  proceed.  Only  for  a  brief 
moment  did  he  tremble ;  but  quickly  regaining  his  self-possession, 
he  answered:  "Yes.  I  will  proceed,  and  entrust  myself  to  the 
Emperor's  protection,"  thus  foiling  the  plan  of  his  adversaries  to 
have  him  condemned  for  contumacy  in  disobeying  the  summons. 
Worn  out  and  sick,  he  wrote  to  Spalatin  from  Frankfort :  "  Christ 
lives ;  and  we  shall  enter  Worms,  though  all  the  gates  of  Hell  and 
powers  of  the  air  be  unwilling."  ^ 

XL 

Beauty. 

i       1.  The  next  thing  is  beauty.    Some  Christians  are  content 
with  the  strength,  and  care  little  for  the  beautj'-,  of  the  Christian 
life.    They  are  stern  in  their  adhesion  to  principle,  careless  of  the 
lesser  charities  of  life,  apt  to  be  harsh  in  their  condemnation  of 
error  and  sin.    Every  one  knows  their  worth,  believes  in  their 
I  honesty,  would  trust  implicitly  to  their  integrity.    But  they  do 
not  win  love  by  their  gracious  bearing,  their  kind  words,  their 
i  charitable  construction  of  men  and  things.    In  a  word,  they  have 
'  the  strength,  but  they  lack  something  of  the  beauty  of  the  Christian 
i  character.    We  have  always  the  practical,  hard-headed  people  with 
us  (like  Dickens'  "  Mr.  Gradgrind  "),  who  say,  "  Never  mind  about 
the  beautiful,  give  us  the  useful,  the  durable,"  and  who  would  re- 
gard all  ornamentation  as  useless  and  extravagant.    But  God  has 
a  ministry  both  for  strength  and  for  beauty.    He  made  not  only 
things  great  but  things  beautiful.    "  0,  worship  the  Lord  in  the 
beauty  of  holiness,"  says  the  Psalmist,  and  we  must  remember 
tliere  is  also  a  holiness  of  beauty.    In  the  fabric  and  services  of 
the  sanctuary  nothing  is  too  beautiful  or  too  good  for  God. 
"Jerry-building"  and  cheap  fittings  are  out  of  place  here.  God 

*  H.  E.  Jacobs,  Martin  Luther,  184. 


262  STRENGTH  AND  BEAUTY 


should  have  the  best  of  workmanship,  the  loveliest  of  music,  and 

the  perfection  of  reverence  and  order. 

^  If  you  behold  the  sky  with  its  peerless  blue,  the  meadow 
with  its  emerald  green,  the  grain-field  with  its  yellow  gold,  the 
lake  with  its  silver  white,  you  will  see  that  beauty  has  been 
wrought  into  all  the  patterns  of  nature.  What  skilled  artist  can 
put  another  touch  upon  the  rainbow,  or  mix  colours  that  will 
heighten  the  beauty  of  the  transfigured  cloud-land  ?  The  spring 
in  its  fresh  green,  the  winter  in  its  robes  of  pearl,  the  cataract, 
the  crystal  spray,  the  pearly  dew,  the  ocean  all  aglow  with 
phosphorescence,  every  wavelet  flashing  and  sparkling  as  it  caps 
and  breaks,  the  towering  mountains,  with  their  ceaseless  lights 
and  shadows,  the  jewelled  sphere  of  night,  the  glorious  trans- 
parency of  day,  the  sunset  glories  God  has  hidden  beneath  the 
surface  of  the  roughest  shell — all  these  declare  with  a  thousand 
voices  that  God  loves  beauty  as  well  as  strength.^ 

2.  We  must  have  the  strength  first,  and -beauty  afterward. 
It  is  disaster  to  reverse  this  order — to  try  to  get  beauty  and  then 
have  strength.  The  magnificent  Brooklyn  Bridge,  when  viewed 
at  a  distance,  is  a  beautiful  poem.  But  the  beauty  is  dependent 
on  the  strength  of  mighty  abutments  which  reach  down  far  below 
the  river  bed  and  take  hold  of  the  foundations  of  the  earth.  In 
everything,  both  artistic  and  moral,  strength  is  the  stalk ;  beauty 
is  the  flower  that  blooms  on  it. 

If  The  great  porch  of  Solomon's  temple  was  upheld  by  two 
famous  pillars  of  bronze,  cast  and  adorned  by  the  most  skilful 
workmen  of  the  day.  Those  massive  pillars,  called  Jachin  and 
Boaz,  have  been  described  and  discussed  in  a  thousand  books,  and 
have  been  the  cause  of  endless  speculation.  The  Biblical  descrip- 
tion closes  with  this  suggestive  sentence,  "on  the  top  of  the 
pillars  was  lily  work."  The  columns  that  supported  ended  in 
tracery  that  adorned.  The  strength  that  upheld  blossomed  out 
into  grace  and  beauty  at  the  top.  In  our  day  there  is  a  great 
desire  for  the  lily  work  without  the  pillars,  a  vain  longing  for  the 
graces  of  life  and  the  beauties  of  character  without  the  supporting 
power  of  truth  and  duty.  There  are  thousands  of  men  who  would 
like  the  virtues  of  the  fathers,  but  who  do  not  want  the  faith 
which  made  them  virtuous.  They  would  like  to  have  reproduced 
in  their  life  the  qualities  of  soul  which  marked  the  early 
Christians,  the  Reformers,  and  the  Puritans ;  but  not  their  sturdy 

*  F.  L.  Goodspeed. 


PSALM  xcvi.  6 


263 


faith,  not  their  tenacity  of  conviction,  not  their  majestic  con- 
I  science  or  their  tremendous  hold  on  things  unseen.  They  want 
I  the  simplicity  and  affection  of  the  Waldenses,  but  not  their  faith 
in  God ;  the  audacity  and  fearlessness  of  John  Knox  and  Oliver 
Cromwell,  without  their  vivid  sense  of  the  Divine  Presence ;  the 
morality  of  John  Eobinson  and  Miles  Standish,  without  their 
heroic  creed ;  the  integrity  of  Washington  and  Lincoln,  without 
their  trust  in  a  sustaining  and  overruling  God.  Mothers  are 
anxious  that  their  daughters  should  shine  in  every  social 
accomplishment;  that  their  sons  should  be  men  of  talent  and 
of  skill;  that  their  homes  should  be  beautiful  with  music  and 
art  and  all  kindly  grace.  But  they  are  not  so  solicitous  about 
the  solid  foundations  of  character. 


III. 

Strength  and  Beauty. 

"  Know  ye  not,"  says  the  Apostle,  "  that  ye  are  the  temple 
of  God,  and  that  the  Spirit  of  God  dwelleth  in  you  ? "  The 
sanctuary  of  God  is  a  human  soul  that  is  governed  and  moulded 
by  God.  Such  a  soul  is  His  temple.  Of  this  it  is  true  that 
strength  and  beauty  are  in  His  sanctuary.  In  other  words,  a 
true  Christian  character  is  the  realization  of  the  highest  ideal  of 
what  a  man  should  be. 

1.  A  noble  character  must  contain  in  high  degree,  and  in 
right  proportions,  just  those  two  elements  of  which  the  text 
speaks  —  strength  and  beauty.  There  must  be  strength  of 
character.  You  cannot  make  a  house  out  of  sand,  because  the 
particles  do  not  cohere  to  one  another.  Neither  can  you  make 
a  worthy  character  out  of  irresolution,  vacillation,  doubt,  fear, 
instability.  A  true  man  must  have  ruling  convictions,  con- 
centration and  constancy  of  purpose,  firmness  in  the  right  as  he 
sees  it,  power  to  endure  reverses,  positive  purposes  and  ideas. 
These  make  a  strong  character.  A  true  man  must  also  have 
these  elements  of  strength  adorned  by  gentler  virtues.  Manli- 
ness is  not  mere  strength.  There  must  be  refinement  of  feeling, 
humanity,  and  benevolence,  gentleness  and  patience.  These 
make  character  beautiful.    And  the  two  elements  must  combine 


264  STRENGTH  AND  BEAUTY 


in  right  proportion.  A  merely  strong  character  is  as  one-sided 
and  imperfect  as  a  pugilist  is  an  abnormal  specimen  of  physical 
manhood.  A  merely  gentle,  loving  character  is  often  pitiably 
weak  and  unpractical.  A  true  man  is  strong  in  his  convictions, 
but  gentle  in  his  judgments ;  constant  of  purpose,  but  gentle  to 
the  weak  and  mindful  of  others'  rights;  positive  but  humble; 
energetic  but  meek.  This  is  the  ideal  which  Christianity  has 
taught  the  world. 

^  God  has  room  in  His  Church  for  both  strength  and  beauty. 
Is  there  not  a  parable  in  the  fact  that  Jubal,  the  inventor  of 
music,  and  Tubal-cain,  the  first  blacksmith,  were  brothers  ? 
When  Tubal-cain  set  up  the  first  smithy  he  was  starting  an 
industry  which  has  been  of  great  use  in  the  world ;  but  when 
Jubal  struck  chords  of  music  from  his  first  primitive  harp,  he  laid 
succeeding  generations  of  men  under  no  less  obligation.^ 

^  The  finest  and  most  impressive  effects  are  often  produced 
by  the  combination  of  things  that  are  unlike  each  other.  The 
painter  recognizes  this  principle  when  he  brings  his  darkest 
shadows  to  heighten  the  effect  of  his  clearest  lights,  or  contrasts 
the  jpeaceful  life  of  some  humble  cottage  home  with  the  stately 
magnificence  of  the  stern  mountains  that  surround  it.  The 
architect  appeals  to  the  same  principle  when  he  crowns  his 
columns  with  beautiful  capitals,  and  relieves  the  massive  masonry 
of  his  walls  with  delicate  tracery.  The  massive  wall  and  the 
marble  column  suggest  the  thought  of  strength  ;  while  the  delicate 
carvings  and  the  sculptured  friezes  appeal  to  the  sense  of  beauty. 
The  thought  which  lies  deep  in  the  artist's  mind,  and  to  which  he 
strives  to  give  expression  in  his  work,  is  that  there  is  a  natural 
alliance  between  strength  and  beauty.  He  is  not  satisfied  with 
the  stern  severity  of  mere  strength,  nor  does  he  allow  the  idea  of 
beauty  to  exclude  all  other  thoughts.  But  he  endeavours  to 
clothe  and  crown  strong  things  with  beauty,  and  to  support 
beautiful  things  by  strength. 

2.  Strong  characters  are  not  rare,  and  beautiful  characters  are 
not  rare ;  but  characters  that  are  both  strong  and  beautiful  are 
rare.  It  is  so  difficult  to  be  firm  and  not  to  be  hard,  to  be 
inflexibly  just  and  not  to  be  cold,  to  have  the  solid  virtues  that 
make  for  strength,  and  with  them  the  soft  and  gracious  qualities 
that  command  our  love.  Some  men  and  women  have  the  decor- 
ative virtues — they  are  full  of  generosity,  noble  impulse,  charity 
*  F.  R.  Wilwsou,  TJie  Supreme  Service,  17, 


PSALM  xcvi.  6 


265 


and  magnanimity,  and  enthusiasm ;  but  they  have  not  with  these 
the  strength  of  mind  and  will  that  can  resist  the  "  taking "  and 
I  popular  tendency  if  it  be  forbidden  by  sound  principles  of  justice 
I  and  of  practical  common  sense.  Some  people,  on  the  other  hand, 
I  have  only  the  fundamental  qualities — they  are  just,  but  they 
cannot  be  generous ;  honest,  but  never  liberal ;  truthful,  but  never 
merciful.  They  have  principle,  but  they  have  never  yielded  to 
a  wise  enthusiasm,  or  been  moved  out  of  their  slow,  plodding  habit 
by  some  sacred  zeal  for  a  great  and  good  cause.  The  world  yields 
to  the  strong  men  ;  it  admires  them,  it  honours  them ;  but  it  does 
not  love  them.  They  command  its  respect,  but  they  do  not 
engage  its  affection.  On  the  other  hand,  the  world's  heart  is 
drawn  out  to  the  beautiful  lives,  but  it  discovers  to  its  pain  that 
it  must  not  lean  upon  them.  They  cannot  be  trusted  in  our  hours 
of  real  trial  and  perplexity.  What  they  gain  in  heart  they  seem 
to  lose  in  head ;  and  we  grow  conscious  that  they  are  tender  and 
generous  and  kind,  but  they  are  not  wise.  Of  how  few  is  it  true 
that  they  are  not  only  strong  but  beautiful,  not  only  beautiful 
but  strong ! 

^  All  the  strong  things  in  nature  are  beautiful ;  all  the 
beautiful  things  are  exhibitions  of  strength.  David  speaks  of  the 
"  strength  of  the  hills  "  which  is  "  his  also."  We  feel  the  power 
and  appropriateness  of  the  words  as  we  look  up  to  the  mountains. 
But  do  we  not  speak  with  equal  truth  of  the  beauty  of  the  hills, 
clad  in  exquisite  verdure,  or  flushed  with  the  light  that  is  "  new 
every  morning  " ;  delicate  flowers  and  tender  ferns  nestling  in  the 
shelter  of  their  crags,  and  purple  rocks  reflecting  the  sunsets  of  a 
thousand  years  ?  Take  the  strongest  thing  that  nature  yields,  and 
I  we  shall  find  that  its  strength  is  the  cradle  of  an  exquisite  and 
lunfathomable  beauty.  Take  the  most  beautiful  thing,  and  we 
I  shall  find  that  its  beauty  is  in  closest  alliance  with  immeasurable 
strength.  The  dewdrop  that  glitters  on  the  roseleaf — we  all  know 
the  perfection  of  its  beauty ;  but  how  little  do  we  understand  tlie 
mystery  of  the  strength  by  which  its  beauty  is  secured !  That 
little  drop  of  water  is  composed  of  elements  which  are  held 
together  by  electric  forces  sufficient  to  form  a  flash  of  lightning 
that  would  rend  the  rocks  of  the  mountain  or  blast  the  stoutest 
oak  of  the  forest.  All  that  mighty  thunder  of  power  lies  sleeping 
in  the  crystal  sphere  of  a  tiny  dewdrop. 

^  Florence  Nightingale  had  that  "  excellent  tiring  in  woman  " — 
a  gentle  voice.    Lady  Lovelace  in  her  poem  spoke  of  her  friend's 


266  STRENGTH  AND  BEAUTY 


"  soft,  silvery  voice  " ;  but  it  could  command,  as  well  as  charm, 
unless  indeed  it  were  the  charm  that  commanded.  "  She  scolds 
sergeants  and  orderlies  all  day  long,"  wrote  Mr.  Bracebridge  to 
her  parents  (Nov.  20) ;  "  you  would  be  astonished  to  see  how 
fierce  she  is  grown."  That  was  written,  of  course,  in  fun;  but 
there  was  always  a  note  of  calm  authority  in  her  voice.  A 
Crimean  veteran  recalled  her  passing  his  bed  with  some  doctors, 
who  were  saying,  "  It  can't  be  done,"  and  her  replying  quietly, 
"  It  must  be  done."  "  I  seem  to  hear  her  saying  it,"  writes  one 
who  knew  her  well ;  "  there  seemed  to  be  no  appeal  from  her 
quiet,  conclusive  manner."  ^ 

3.  In  Jesus  Christ  strength  and  beauty  appear  as  nowhere 
else  among  men.  He  is  the  ideal  man.  His  character  contains 
every  element  of  strength — profound  knowledge,  constant  faith, 
ability  to  suffer  for  the  truth,  composure  in  the  face  of  an 
assailing  world.  Yet  His  character  contains  also  every  element 
of  beauty.  He  is  tender  as  a  woman,  devoted  in  His  love  of  man, 
humble  and  meek,  gentle  and  patient  too.  Each  quality  exists 
in  .  accurate  proportion  in  Him ;  so  that  we  may  say,  without 
hesitation  and  after  the  closest  examination,  that  the  architecture 
of  Christ's  character  is  absolutely  perfect. 

^  The  mediaeval  conception  of  our  Saviour,  as  meek,  and 
suffering,  and  patient,  and  gentle  above  all  others,  is  true  though 
incomplete.  He  was  "  strong  Son  of  God "  also.  It  was  the 
boldness  of  Peter  and  J ohn  that  reminded  men  of  their  courageous 
Master.  How  constantly  in  His  life  do  we  see  strength  and 
beauty,  in  perfect  balance  and  poise,  shining  forth  from  His 
acts  and  words !  In  the  garden  of  agony,  faced  by  cruel  and 
murderous  men.  He  stands  erect,  calmly  repeating  to  His  enemies, 
"  I  have  told  you  that  I  am  he  " — there  is  strength ;  but  mark 
the  tender  beauty  of  what  follows :  "  If  ye  seek  me,  let  these  go 
their  way  " — solicitude  for  His  faint-hearted  followers  mingling 
with  His  fortitude.  As  one  has  truly  said  :  "  The  eyes  that  wept 
beside  the  grave  of  Lazarus  were  eyes  that  were  like  a  flame 
of  fire."*  By  His  strength  and  beauty,  combined  with  perfect 
symmetry  in  one  holy  character,  Jesus  endlessly  attracts.  His 
charm  is  not  like  that  of  any  other.  "  Thou  hast  conquered,  0 
Galilean,"  for  Thou  art  strong  and  Thou  art  fair.  Thou  art 
chiefest  among  ten  thousand.  Captain  of  the  Lord's  hosts,  and 
Thou  art  altogether  lovely,  beautiful  beyond  compare.^ 

*  Sir  Edward  Cook,  The  Life  of  Florence  Nightinyale,  i.  186. 
■J.  WaddeU. 


PSALM  xcvi.  6 


A  rose,  a  lily,  and  the  Face  of  Christ 

Have  all  our  hearts  sufficed : 
For  He  is  Eose  of  Sharon  nobly  born, 

Our  Eose  without  a  thorn  ; 
And  He  is  Lily  of  the  Valley,  He 

Most  sweet  in  purity. 
But  when  we  come  to  name  Him  as  He  is, 

Godhead,  Perfection,  Bliss, 
All  tongues  fall  silent,  while  pure  hearts  alone 

Complete  their  orison.^ 

*  Christina  G.  Rossetti,  Christ  our  All  in  All, 


Light  and  Gladness. 


'..69 


Literature. 


Carroll  (B.  H.),  Sermons,  340. 
Christopherson  (H.),  Sermons,  30. 
Halsey  (J.),  in  Jesus  in  the  Cornfield,  143. 
Jerdan  (C),  Gospel  Milk  and  Honey,  311. 
•  Landels  (W.),  Until  the  Day  Break,  125. 
Lear  mount  (J,),  Fifty -iivo  Sundays  with  the  Children,  92. 
Miller  (J.  R.),  A  Help  for  Common  Days,  91. 

Spurgeon  (C.  H.),  Metropolitan  Tabernacle  Pulpit,  xiv.  (1868),  No.  836. 

Stubbs  (W.),  in  Oxford  University  Sermons,  318. 

Voysey  (C),  Sermons,  x.  (1887),  No.  20 ;  xii.  (1889),  No.  22. 

Wilson  (S.  L.),  Helpful  Words  for  Daily  Life,  384. 

Christian  World  Pulpit,  Ixxviii.  33  (R.  J.  Campbell). 


«70 


Light  and  Gladness. 


Light  is  sown  for  the  righteous, 

And  gladness  for  the  upright  in  heart.— Ps.  xcvii.  ii. 

The  peculiar  metaphor  employed  in  this  passage  is  somewhat 
arrestive  because  of  the  form  in  which  it  is  expressed.  This  way 
of  putting  things  is  quite  different  from  ordinary  language ;  we 
do  not  commonly  speak  of  sowing  light  and  gladness  in  the  same 
fashion  as  we  sow  grain  in  the  spring-time  with  the  expectation 
of  an  autumn  harvest.  The  figure  is  so  striking  that  we  are  at 
once  compelled  to  pause  and  ask  what  this  writer  has  in  mind. 
To  say  the  least  of  it,  the  suggestion  is  very  beautiful.  Imagine 
a  husbandman  sowing  rays  of  light  in  the  ploughed  fields  instead 
of  the  ordinary  corn  and  flower  seed !  Why,  the  very  idea  is 
full  of  spiritual  suggestion,  and  sets  us  on  the  track  of  high  and 
holy  things.  Perhaps  it  is  for  this  reason  that  the  Kevisers  have 
allowed  it  to  stand,  although,  as  has  frequently  been  pointed  out, 
the  translation  is  not  literally  correct.  If  we  have  a  mind  to  be 
pedantically  accurate  we  might  render  the  text  thus :  "  Light  has 
arisen — or,  is  scattered — for  the  righteous,  and  gladness  for  the 
upright  in  heart."  It  is  almost  identical  in  form  with  Ps.  cxii.  4, 
"Unto  the  upright  there  ariseth  light  in  the  darkness."  This 
reduces  the  sentiment  to  a  much  more  commonplace  category, 
for,  of  course,  it  means  no  more  than  an  allusion  to  the 
phenomenon  of  sunrise,  a  figure  in  which  there  is  nothing  so 
very  remarkable  or  out  of  the  common.  But  somehow  one 
thinks  the  Authorized  translators  have  got  nearer  the  original 
meaning  of  this  utterance  than  a  mere  prosaic  literalism  could 
have  done.  It  is  true  poetry  to  say  that  light  is  sown  for  the 
righteous,  and  there  is  nothing  fantastic  about  it. 

^  Milton,  in  Paradise  Lost,  wrote  these  words  about  the  sun- 
beams and  the  dew:  "Morn  advancing  sowed  the  earth  with 

orient  pearl."    And  when,  with  this  thought  in  our  minds,  we 

271 


272  LIGHT  AND  GLADNESS 


look  up  on  a  winter  night  to  the  starry  sky,  does  that  not  seem 
like  an  immense  concave  field  sown  all  over  with  light  ?  ^ 


I. 

Sown  Light. 

1.  It  is  no  merely  fanciful  use  of  the  words,  "  light  is  sown," 
to  suggest  that,  in  a  literal  sense,  light  has  been  sown  for  our 
harvesting  in  those  vast  buried  forests  which  constitute  our  coal- 
fields, and  are  the  source  of  nearly  all  our  artificial  light  and  heat. 
The  sunbeams  that  streamed  through  long  millenniums  upon  our 
planet  were  absorbed  by  those  giant  ferns  and  conifers  that 
flourished  in  what  geologists  call  the  Carboniferous  period,  and 
were  afterwards  submerged  and  overlaid  with  other  deposits ;  and 
after  having  been  imprisoned  in  the  depths  and  the  darkness  for 
long  ages,  like  seed  in  the  soil,  the  light  of  those  beams  is  now 
breaking  forth  once  more  for  the  illumination  and  service  of  man. 

^  George  Stephenson,  the  inventor  of  the  locomotive  engine, 
was  once  standing  with  Dean  Buckland,  the  famous  geologist, 
and  others  upon  the  terrace  of  Sir  Eobert  Peel's  mansion  at 
Drayton  Manor,  when  a  railway  train  flashed  along  in  the 
distance,  throwing  behind  it  a  long  trail  of  white  steam.  "  Now, 
Dr.  Buckland,"  said  Stephenson,  "  can  you  tell  me  what  is  the 
power  that  is  driving  that  train  ? "  "  Well,"  said  the  Dean,  "  I 
suppose  it  is  one  of  your  big  engines."  "But  what  drives  the 
engine  ? "  "  Oh,  very  likely  a  canny  Newcastle  driver."  "  What 
do  you  say  to  the  light  of  the  sun  ? "  "  How  can  that  be  ? " 
asked  the  Dean.  "  It  is  nothing  else,"  replied  the  engineer ;  "  it 
is  light  bottled  up  in  the  earth  for  tens  of  thousands  of  years  and 
now,  after  being  buried  in  the  earth  for  long  ages  in  the  fields  of 
coal,  the  latent  light  is  again  brought  forth  and  liberated;  made 
to  work,  as  in  that  engine,  for  great  motive  purposes."  That 
answer  was  itself  a  flash  of  illumination  to  the  mind  of  the  man 
of  science,  and  there  is  more  meaning  in  it  than  even  Buckland 
or  Stephenson  himself  ever  dreamed.  For,  since  that  day,  not 
only  has  light  produced  by  the  combustion  of  coal  gas  become  the 
chief  means  of  artificial  illumination  to  all  civilized  nations,  but 
mineral  oils  derived  from  the  same  source  are  also  largely  used, 
and  it  is  the  pent-up  force  of  the  sunbeam  locked  up  in  the  coal 

*  0.  Jerdan. 


,1 
J 


PSALM  xcvii.  II 


273 


that  drives  our  motor-cars,  and,  transformed  into  heat,  generates 
the  power  which  we  transmute  again  into  light  in  the  form  of  the 
electric  beam.  Hundreds  of  thousands  of  years  ago  the  light  was 
sown,  and  now  the  harvest  is  being  reaped.^ 

2.  A  seed  is  a  germ.  When,  therefore,  we  say  that  God  has 
sown  the  light  for  us,  we  mean  that  He  gives  us  our  blessings  in 
germ,  not  in  full  form — that  they  come  to  us,  not  developed  into 
completeness  of  beauty,  but  as  seeds  which  we  must  plant,  wait- 
ing, sometimes  waiting  long,  for  them  to  grow  into  loveliness.  A 
seed  does  not  disclose  all  the  beauty  of  the  life  that  is  folded  up 
within  it.  We  see  only  a  little  brown  and  unsightly  hull  which 
gives  no  prophecy  of  anything  so  beautiful  as  springs  from  it 
when  it  has  been  planted.  These  facts  in  nature  have  their 
analogies  in  the  seeds  of  spiritual  blessing  which  God  sows  for  us. 
The  blessing  does  not  appear :  what  does  appear  is  often  unlovely 
in  its  form,  giving  in  itself  no  promise  of  good.  Yet  it  is  a  seed 
carrying  in  it  the  potency  of  life  and  the  possibilities  of  great 
blessing.  Every  duty  that  comes  to  our  hand  in  the  common 
days  is  a  seed  of  light  which  God  has  sown  for  us.  Some  seeds 
are  dark  and  rough  as  we  look  upon  them ;  so  there  are  duties 
that  have  in  them  no  promise  of  joy  or  pleasure  as  they  first 
present  themselves  to  us.  They  look  hard  and  repulsive,  and  we 
shrink  from  doing  them,  but  every  one  knows  that  there  is  in  the 
faithful  doing  of  every  duty  a  strange  secret  of  joy;  and  the 
harder  the  duty,  the  fuller  and  the  richer  is  the  sense  of  gladness 
that  follows  its  performance. 

God's  angels  drop  like  grains  of  gold 

Our  duties  'midst  life's  shining  sands, 
And  from  them,  one  by  one,  we  mould 

Our  own  bright  crown  with  patient  hands. 
From  dust  and  dross  we  gather  them; 
We  toil  and  stoop  for  love's  sweet  sake 
To  find  each  worthy  act  a  gem 
In  glory's  kingly  diadem 
Which  we  may  daily  richer  make. 

^  It  has  been  said  that  faith  in  God  and  belief  in  immortality 
were  Browning's  sources  of  inspiration.  It  is  not  possible  to  say 
that  of  all  our  poets — perhaps  not  of  any  in  the  same  degree  as  oif 

^  J.  Halaey. 

PS.  XXV.-CXIX. — 18 


274  LIGHT  AND  GLADNESS 


him.  One  other  great  poet  of  the  Victorian  age,  Tennyson,  may 
be  very  properly  described  as  a  religious  poet.  He,  too,  treats  of 
the  eternal  mysteries  of  God  and  the  universe,  and  the  awful 
problems  of  life  and  death;  but  where  Tennyson  whispers,  or 
speaks  with  bated  breath.  Browning  sends  forth  a  clear,  distinct, 
ringing  voice — where  the  former  "  faintly  trusts,"  the  latter  avows 
a  confidence  which  nought  can  disturb,  and  which  inspires  faith 
in  the  more  timid  and  halting  of  his  fellows  around  him.  What 
Browning  makes  the  Pope  say  in  "  The  King  and  the  Book,"  he 
might  have  said  of  himself  with  perfect  truthfulness : 

Never  I  miss  footing  in  the  maze, 

No, — I  have  light  nor  fear  the  dark  at  all.^ 

3.  This  figure  of  light  sown  implies  something  hidden  and 
long  waited  for,  yet  certain  at  last ;  even  as  the  seed  is  buried  in 
the  soil,  and  "  the  husbandman  hath  long  patience  until  he  receive 
the  early  and  the  latter  rain,"  and  finally,  the  assured  fruition  of 
his  labour.  The  sower  does  not  doubt  the  harvest  because  he 
has  to  wait  weary  months  for  it.  He  knows  that  in  due  season 
he  shall  reap  if  he  faint  not.  And  so  the  Psalmist  would 
have  us  believe  that  the  certainty  of  the  coming  light  is  as  great 
as  that  of  the  present  darkness,  and  that  if  our  calamities  are 
inevitable,  our  consolations  are  assured.  "  Weeping  may  endure 
for  a  night,  but  joy  cometh  in  the  morning." 

The  seed  which  is  cast  into  the  soil  does  not  immediately 
yield  the  harvest.  The  waiting  is  the  price  we  have  to  pay  for 
the  hundredfold  increase.  It  cannot  be  reaped  yet.  But  it  is 
sown,  and  will  yet  grow  and  ripen.  God's  hand  has  prepared 
the  soil  and  cast  the  seed,  and  His  care  and  culture  secure  an 
abundant  harvest.  It  is  sown,  and  is  growing  under  His  eye. 
Those  dark  clouds  that  overshadow  sometimes  drop  down  fatness 
on  it.  Those  storms  that  are  so  trying  strengthen  it.  And  God's 
love,  like  genial  sunshine,  is  promoting  its  continual  growth.  It 
is  sown,  and  will  be  reaped  before  long.  Fear  not ;  rather  look 
beyond. 

Lift  up  thine  eyes  beyond  the  night 

Of  life's  dark  setting;  blossoms  of  to-day 

Shall  break  in  flower  to-morrow. 

This  year's  light  sucked  into  every  spray 

Is  food  for  summer  blossoms  yet  to  be, 
*  J.  Flew,  Studies  im  Sroimmg,  7. 


i 


PSALM  xcvii.  II 


275 


^  The  rays  of  the  sun  are  streaming  across  ninety-six  million 
miles  of  space  every  day  in  the  year,  and  every  hour  in  the  day. 
Some  of  them  are  turned  into  planetary  energy  at  once ;  others 
pass  down  into  darkness  and  silence  in  the  earth  and  there 
remain ;  or  they  may  spring  up  immediately  in  the  form  of  vegeta- 
tion, which  by  and  by  becomes  a  coal  mine  or  a  petroleum  well. 
After  the  lapse  of  ages,  it  may  be,  that  stored-up  light,  scattered 
so  lavishly  upon  the  earth's  surface  so  long  ago,  is  discovered  and 
brought  into  use  once  more.  We  drive  our  looms  and  illuminate 
our  houses  with  it.  We  call  it  by  a  variety  of  names,  accord- 
ing to  the  service  we  manage  to  draw  from  it.  In  the  form 
of  electricity  we  make  it  flash  our  thoughts  from  continent  to 
continent  across  intervening  oceans.  In  another  form,  it  will 
carry  a  floating  city,  like  a  modern  mammoth  Atlantic  liner, 
from  the  old  world  to  the  new.  In  others,  it  shines  forth  as 
beauty  and  splendour  in  the  complex  and  manifold  achieve- 
ments of  art  and  science.  What  untold  wonders  are  being 
wrought  every  day  by  the  bringing  forth  of  the  stored-up  light 
of  the  sun !  They  constitute  the  harvest  of  that  which  was 
sown  long  before  we  who  profit  by  the  blessing  were  born  to 
inherit  it.^ 

4.  God  has  sown  His  holy  light  in  the  field  of  His  Word. 
The  sacred  writings  are  full  of  hidden  light — the  light  of  truth, 
holiness,  and  joy ;  and  this  light  the  Holy  Spirit  shows  to  the 
ievout  and  diligent  student.  Every  gospel  promise  is  a  star, 
shining  in  the  dark  night  of  time ;  and  the  Bible  is  a  "  book  of 
stars."  Light  is  sown  also  in  the  field  of  Divine  Providence. 
Everything  that  God  allows  to  happen  to  His  people  is  right :  this 
8  so,  even  when  darkness  wraps  them  round  for  a  season.  "  We 
enow  that  all  things  work  together  for  good  to  them  that  love 
jrod."  And  light  is  sown  especially  in  the  field  of  human  hearts. 
Che  Spirit  of  God  scatters  in  this  soil  seeds  of  living  light — 
mowledge  and  purity  and  gladness.  "  The  fruit  of  the  Spirit  is 
ove,  joy,  peace,  longsuffering,  gentleness,  goodness,  faith,  meek- 
less,  temperance." 

K  I  have  been  deep  in  my  study  of  the  ways  of  God  in  heathen 
eligions.  The  past  of  mankind  does  not  now  seem  a  black  ocean 
overed  with  fog  and  storm,  and  wrecks  drifting  everywhere,  but 
,  long  wake  of  light  crosses  it  coming  from  the  light  that  lighteth 
very  man  in  the  world,  the  Pharos  of  humanity — the  Spirit  of 
»  R.  J.  Campbell. 


276  LIGHT  AND  GLADNESS 


God.  In  that  gleam,  the  nations  have  steered  their  barks  and 
made  towards  haven.  He  hath  not  left  Himself  without  a 
witness.^ 

•[I  I  have  been  thinking  especially  of  those  prayers  which  are 
most  legitimate  and  most  surely  answered — prayers  for  help  to 
resist  temptation,  for  strength  in  the  performance  of  duty,  for  the 
lifting  of  despondency,  and  for  all  the  way  in  which  men  are 
raised  above  themselves  and  out  of  weakness  are  made  strong.  In 
such  cases  as  these  it  does  not  often  happen  that  the  supplicant  is 
conscious  of  any  direct  intervention  of  God.  He  will  indeed  rise 
from  his  knees  in  a  calmer  frame  of  mind ;  the  habit  of  prayer, 
and  the  trustfulness  which  goes  with  such  a  habit,  cannot  fail  of 
their  effect  in  quieting  for  the  time  the  troubled  spirit.  The 
humble  Christian  does  not  look  for  more  than  this ;  but  he  waits 
awhile,  and  the  crisis  passes.  He  does  not  know  what  has  hap- 
pened ;  but  in  some  strange  way  the  difficulties  that  seemed  to 
beset  him  have  vanished  ;  the  problem  that  seemed  so  unmanage- 
able is  solved  ;  the  thing  that  seemed  so  impossible  is  done.^ 


II. 

Sown  Gladness. 

"  Light  and  gladness  " !  What  a  wonderful  conception  of  the 
future  portion  of  the  righteous  does  the  Psalmist  here  give  us! 
The  two  words,  as  is  customary  in  the  parallelism  of  Hebrew 
poetry,  mean  almost  the  same  thing.  The  one  is  figurative,  the 
other  literal.  The  word  "gladness"  itself  teaches  us  most 
emphatically  that  joy  is  the  portion  of  tlie  righteous — exuberant, 
exultant  joy — ^joy  which  beams  in  the  eye,  and  lights  up  the 
countenance,  and  gives  buoyancy  to  the  frame,  and  is  heard  in  the 
jubilant  tones  of  the  voice,  and  which  yet  has  its  seat  deep  among 
the  springs  of  feeling — in  the  very  heart's  core.  Gladness !  It 
is  joy,  full,  deep,  and  placid,  like  a  lake  which  knows  no  ebb,  and 
is  sheltered  from  every  agitating  storm,  and  yet  like  a  lake  whose 
calm  waters  ripple  under  the  gentle  breeze,  and  flash  with  bright 
scintillations  in  the  rays  of  tlie  summer's  sun,  with  singing  birds 
around  pouring  out  their  melody,  and  flowers  shedding  fragrance 

^  Life  of  Charles  Loring  Brace,  458. 

2  W.  Sanday,  in  The  Expository  Times,  xxiv.  (1913)  440. 


PSALM  xcvii.  II 


277 


on  the  air,  and  beautifying  all  the  scene.  Gladness !  It  is  the 
laughter  of  the  heart,  when,  full  of  enjoyment  to  overflowing,  it 
ripples  over  in  spontaneous  expression,  more  cheerful  than  the 
laughter  of  childhood  at  play,  serene  as  a  summer  evening  sky. 
Gladness !  Surprising  revelations  —  expectation  more  than 
realized;  fears  dispelled  and  dangers  escaped;  sorrows  changed 
into  joys;  all  perils  passed,  all  apprehensions  hushed;  satisfy- 
ing bliss  already  possessed,  higher  bliss  anticipated  !  All  this  is 
included  in  this  portion  of  the  righteous. 

1.  This  gladness  will  be  accompanied  by,  and  no  doubt  partially 
spring  from,  the  revelation  of  things  that  are  wrapped  in  darkness 
now.  It  will  be  no  small  element  in  the  joy  of  the  righteous  that 
many  of  the  mysteries  which  perplex  them  will  be  unravelled. 
God's  ways,  which  now  seem  to  us  mysterious,  and  which  try  the 
faith  and  patience  of  His  people,  will  not  always  be  so  unfathom- 
able as  they  are  now;  they  will  present  themselves  in  a  very 
different  aspect  when  His  chosen  have  reached  the  end  of  their 
course,  and  begin  to  see  as  they  are  seen,  and  to  know  as  they  are 
known.  "  Unto  the  upright  there  ariseth  light  in  the  darkness." 
And  we  cannot  but  helieve  that  their  hearts  will  be  gladdened  by 
the  surprisingly  new  light  in  which  the  most  trying  dispensations 
appear,  and  by  the  lifting  up  of  the  veil  from  the  great  and 
glorious  purposes  which  they  were  designed  to  promote.  There 
may  still  be  room  for  the  exercise  of  faith.  But,  largely,  faith 
will  give  place  to  sight,  and  hope  to  realization.  And  in  their 
clearer  understanding  of  the  Divine  method,  and  their  better 
acquaintance  with  its  glorious  issues,  they  will  find  no  small 
portion  of  their  joy.  The  gladness  of  brighter  and  ever-increasing 
light  will  be  theirs  for  ever. 

^  The  missing  qualities  in  Wesley's  religious  state  at  tliis 
time  [before  his  conversion]  are  sufficiently  obvious.  It  utterly 
lacked  the  element  of  joy.  Keligion  is  meant  to  have  for  the 
spiritual  landscape  the  office  of  sunshine,  but  in  Wesley's  spiritual 
sky  at  this  time  there  burned  no  Divine  light,  whether  of  certainty 
or  of  hope.  He  imagined  he  could  distil  the  rich  wine  of  spiritual 
gladness  out  of  mechanical  religious  exercises ;  but  he  found  him- 
self, to  his  own  distress,  and  in  his  own  words,  "dull,  flat,  and 
unaffected  in  the  use  of  the  most  solemn  ordinances."  Fear,  too, 
like  a  shadow,  haunted  his  mind :  fear  that  he  was  not  accepted 


278  LIGHT  AND  GLADNESS 


before  God ;  fear  that  he  might  lose  what  grace  he  had ;  fear  both 
of  life  and  of  death.^ 

2.  God  is  the  God  of  gladness,  as  well  as  the  God  of  terror. 
And  this  needs  special  emphasizing  for  some  who  would  limit  His 
interest  to  the  graver  things  of  life — sorrow,  affliction,  mourning. 
It  is  true,  beautifully  true,  that  He  is  the  Consolatio  afflidorum, 
the  real,  genuine  Kefuge  for  thousands  who  are  burdened  and 
heavy  laden;  but  it  is  also  true  that  He  presides  over  the 
pleasures  of  His  people.  Is  not  the  average  Englishman's  con- 
ception of  God  that  of  a  stern,  stiff  Being,  more  or  less  confined  to 
certain  times  and  places,  associated  chiefly  with  stiff-backed  pews, 
but  having  very  little,  if  anything,  to  do  with  the  pleasures  or  the 
gladder  side  of  daily  life  ?  This — though  it  has  its  good  side — is 
a  view  we  want  to  review  and  revise.  We  want  to  get  back  to 
the  old,  happy  conception  of  the  Psalmist :  "  Thou  art  about  my 
path  and  about  my  being,  and  spies t  out  all  my  ways."  And 
worse  still :  some  of  us  keep  this  gladsome  view  of  God  outside 
even  our  religion.  The  Hundredth  Psalm  has  a  line  which  runs 
in  the  old  metrical  version, 

"  Him  serve  with  mirth,  His  praise  forth  tell,"  ^ 
which  is  often  sung  as  if  the  words  were,  1 
*'Him  serve  with  fear.**  \ 
The  change  is  a  bad  one.  Fear  has  its  part  to  play  in  life,  but 
here  it  spoils  the  whole  idea  of  the  hymn,  and  is  out  of  harmony 
with  the  verse  in  the  Psalm  from  which  the  thought  is  borrowed : 
"  Serve  the  Lord  with  gladness,  and  come  before  his  presence  with 
a  song."  Let  us  get  back  to  the  original  as  soon  as  we  can  in 
thought,  word,  and  deed. 

^  Froude  reminds  us  how  bright  and  happy  and  even  humorous 
were  the  great  heroes  of  the  Keformation — Luther,  Calvin,  and 
Knox ;  and  yet  they  lived  in  times  when  there  was  far  more  to 
lament  and  to  be  ashamed  of  even  than  in  ours ;  they  fought  a 
battle  for  light  and  truth  and  liberty  under  far  heavier  discourage- 
ments than  we  have  to  bear,  and  yet  they  were  among  the  happiest 
of  men.  And  why  ?  Because  they  were  doing  something,  they 
were  not  idle  and  sentimental  spectators  of  the  foul  state  of  things 
around  them,  but  every  day  and  all  day  they  were  active  in  trying 
to  overthrow  them ;  they  were  for  ever  fighting  against  the  lies 

^  W.  H.  Fitchett,  Wesley  and  His  Century y  82. 


PSALM  xcvii.  II 


279 


and  baseness  and  follies  and  superstitions  on  every  hand  and 
therefore,  they  were  not  morbid  or  melancholy ;  they  knew  that 
God  was  on  their  side  and  therefore  their  true  hearts  were  glad. 
Difficulties  did  not  daunt  them ;  wounds  did  not  disable  them ; 
reproaches,  curses,  mortal  danger  did  not  even  damp  their  spirits 
or  lower  the  temperature  of  their  joy.  Amidst  the  Egyptian 
darkness,  the  darkness  which  might  be  felt,  as  we  are  told,  th© 
children  of  Israel  had  light  in  their  dwellings.  True  or  not  as 
a  matter  of  history,  it  is  grandly  true  that  wherever  there  is 
righteous  work  for  God  there  is  light  in  the  mind  and  soul, 
wherever  there  is  fidelity  there  is  joyful  gladness.^ 

^  Many  a  man  gets  little  credit  for  his  indomitable  good  cheer, 
because  it  is  supposed  that  this  is  but  his  natural  inclination. 
But  a  virtue  is  still  a  virtue,  even  though  it  be  congenial ;  and 
those  who  have  diligently  kept  their  lamp  of  joy  alight  are  not 
the  least  worthy  of  God's  faithful  ones.  As  for  Stevenson,  he 
deliberately  drew  upon  and  encouraged  all  the  available  sources 
of  gladness.  He  carried  with  him  into  manhood,  not  only  the 
glee  that  comes  from  physical  vitality,  and  the  sense  of  the 
world's  opulence,  but  also  the  spirit  of  the  Lantern-bearer,  who 
carefully  kept  alive  his  inner  light.  His  natural  optimism  is 
unquestionable,  but  it  should  be  remembered  that  he  needed  it  all, 
and  that,  if  his  strenuous  choice  of  it  had  flagged,  pessimism  would 
not  have  been  far  to  seek.  It  is  a  great  and  potent  secret,  that 
of  fostering  our  own  peculiar  enthusiasm  as  a  sacred  flame. 
Eegard  yourself,  as  you  face  the  simplest  duty  of  to-morrow,  as 
tending  within  your  soul's  temple  the  fires  of  God,  and  you  shall 
find  the  bright  parable  true.  Both  these  sources,  the  outward 
and  the  inward,  were  largely  drawn  upon  by  Stevenson.^ 


III. 

The  Eeapers  of  Light  and  Gladness. 

God's  light  is  sown  for  all  mankind,  but  only  "  the  righteous  " 
can  find  it ;  His  gladness  waits  at  the  door  of  every  soul,  but  it 
never  enters  save  to  "  the  upright  in  heart."  But  who  are  "  the 
righteous"  who  are  thus  favoured,  and  what  does  it  mean  to 
be  "  upright  in  heart "  ?  What  Jesus  meant  by  righteousness 
was  substantially  what  the  great  prophets  of  the  Old  Testament 

^  C.  Voysey. 

^  J.  Kelmau,  The  Faith  of  Robert  Louis  Stevenson,  250. 


28o  LIGHT  AND  GLADNESS 


had  meant  before  Him  when  they  protested  against  idolatry. 
He  meant  motive  rather  than  deed ;  He  meant  that  equality  of 
mind  and  heart  whereby  a  man  loses  sight  of  self-interest  in  the 
desire  to  help  and  succour  his  fellow-creatures.  From  this  stand- 
point it  is  clear  that  the  more  righteous  a  man  becomes  the  less 
will  he  think  about  it ;  he  will  cease  to  be  self-conscious ;  he  will 
just  go  on  giving  himself  quietly  and  simply  without  asking 
whether  he  is  to  be  rewarded  or  not. 

No  sooner  does  a  man  become  absorbed  in  some  great 
impersonal  achievement,  ceasing  to  care  what  may  or  may  not 
happen  to  himself  in  the  process,  than  he  begins  to  find  that 
life  discloses  new  and  vaster  meaning ;  and  he  knows  more  of 
true  blessedness  than  he  ever  knew  before.  He  may  be  quite 
willing  to  forgo  everj^thing  in  the  shape  of  reward,  but  it  is  part 
of  the  very  law  of  universal  being  that  he  cannot  do  so.  The 
less  he  thinks  about  reward  the  more  certainly  will  the  highest 
kind  of  reward  pour  in  upon  him.  He  cannot  be  wretched ;  life 
forbids  it.  He  may  have  to  go  down  into  the  darkness  for  a  brief 
hour,  but  it  is  ordy  to  bring  up  the  everlasting  light ;  he  may 
wrestle  awhile  in  Gethsemane,  but  it  is  only  a  stage  in  the  ascent 
to  the  gladness  beyond  the  cross.  Who  will  gainsay  the  truth  of 
this  ?  It  is  the  eternal  paradox  which  faces  every  generation, 
and  challenges  every  individual  experience  as  though  it  had  never 
been  known  before.  It  lies  at  the  heart  of  all  religion,  and 
reaches  its  highest  expression  in  the  life  and  death  of  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ  Himself. 

1.  While  it  is  true  of  all  good  men  in  every  creed  that  light 
springs  up  in  their  hearts,  and  joyful  gladness  is  ever  the  sweet 
handmaid  of  sincerity,  yet  it  is  especially  true  that  God  often 
rewards  an  intense  desire  for  righteousness  with  clearer  views  of 
His  own  righteousness  and  more  light  to  shine  upon  us  from  His 
love.  We  have  been  faithful  to  some  obligation  or  trust,  and  so 
God  in  His  mercy  has  revealed  to  us  more  light  to  shine  on  His 
dealings  with  mankind,  and  has  blessed  us  with  the  joy  of  knowing 
more  of  His  infinite  fidelity  and  trustworthiness.  Or  we  have 
been  more  than  usually  kind,  merciful,  and  generous  in  our 
dealings  with  others,  and  then  God  has  shown  us  more  and  more 
of  His  inexhaustible  kindness,  mercy,  and  generosity  unto  all.  Or 


PSALM  xcvii.  II  281 

we  have  had  to  make  some  daring  sacrifice  of  worldly  advantage, 
some  loss  of  position  or  friends  rather  than  be  false  to  ourselves 
and  our  convictions,  and  then  God  has  revealed  to  us  the  delight 
that  He  takes  in  a  brave  man  and  in  moral  courage,  and  He  puts 
a  joy  and  liveliness  into  our  whole  nature  which  the  chances  of 
fortune  cannot  steal  and  the  frowns  of  the  world  cannot  crush. 

^  I  know  but  one  way  in  which  a  man  who  craves  the  light 
and  cannot  find  it  may  come  forth  from  his  agony  of  doubt 
scathless ;  it  is  by  holding  fast  to  those  things  which  are  certain 
still — the  grand,  simple  landmarks  of  morality.  In  the  darkest 
hour  through  which  a  human  soul  can  pass,  whatever  else  is 
doubtful,  this  at  least  is  certain.  If  there  be  no  God  and  no 
future  state,  yet,  even  then,  it  is  better  to  be  generous  than  selfish, 
better  to  be  chaste  than  licentious,  better  to  be  true  than  false, 
better  to  be  brave  than  to  be  a  coward.  Blessed  beyond  all 
earthly  blessedness  is  the  man  who,  in  the  tempestuous  darkness 
of  the  soul,  has  dared  to  hold  fast  to  these  venerable  landmarks. 
Thrice  blessed  is  he  who,  when  all  is  drear  and  cheerless  within 
and  without,  when  his  teachers  terrify  him,  and  his  friends 
shrink  from  him,  has  obstinately  clung  to  moral  good.  Thrice 
blessed,  because  his  night  shall  pass  into  clear,  bright  day.^ 

2.  "  Light  is  sown  for  the  righteous,"  because  only  the  right- 
eous can  perceive  and  rejoice  in  the  light.  There  are  certain 
rays  in  the  spectrum  that  are  invisible  to  us,  simply  because  our 
optic  nerve  is  not  sufficiently  sensitive  to  respond  to  the  rapidity 
of  their  vibrations.  There  are  new  colours  awaiting  those  who 
can  bring  new  eyes  to  them.  So  much  of  the  joy  in  our  life 
depends  on  our  capacity  to  see  the  Divine  purpose  and  meaning 
in  the  things  that  befall  us.  The  comfort  is  there,  but  we  cannot 
take  it.  We  are  like  Hagar  in  the  wilderness,  wretched  with 
thirst,  while  the  foimtain  is  there  flashing  back  the  sunlight 
before  our  blinded  eyes. 

^  There  is  a  shining  light  ahead,  and  Evangelist  points 
Christian  to  that.  Every  soul  of  man  can  see  at  least  some  light 
of  hope  ahead,  shining  in  the  direction  of  the  God  or  Christ  or 
ideal  which  is  as  yet  obscure.  It  may  be  but  the  light  of  some 
possible  duty,  some  sense  of  honour,  some  belief  in  life,  some 
vague  trust  in  the  future.  The  point  is  not  that  the  light  is  full, 
or  even  comprehensible.    If  it  be  clear  enough  to  flee  towards, 

^  F.  W.  Robertson,  LecPures,  Addresses,  and  Literary  Remains,  49. 


282  LIGHT  AND  GLADNESS 


that  is  enough.  For,  here  as  elsewhere,  "solvitur  ambulando." 
What  is  wanted  is  directed  motion  towards  the  light;  the  rest 
will  follow.  So  it  comes  to  pass  that  one  may  be  on  the  road  to 
Christ  when  one  cannot  as  yet  see  Him.^ 

He  that  walks  it  only  thirsting 

For  the  right,  and  learns  to  deaden 

Love  of  self,  before  his  journey  closes, 

He  shall  find  the  stubborn  thistle  bursting 

Into  glossy  purples,  which  outredden 

All  voluptuous  garden-roses.  .  .  . 

He,  that  ever  following  her  commands 

On  with  toil  of  heart  and  knees  and  hands. 

Thro'  the  long  gorge  to  the  far  light  has  won 

His  path  upward,  and  prevail'd, 

Shall  find  the  toppling  crags  of  Duty  scaled 

Are  close  upon  the  shining  table-lands, 

To  which  our  God  Himself  is  moon  and  sun.^ 

3.  If  a  man  is  to  reap  light,  he  must  sow  light.  Every  one  of 
us  makes  his  own  future.  If  we  would  have  the  capacity  for 
light  hereafter,  we  must  cultivate  it  now.  There  is  a  tendency 
in  light  to  beget  light,  just  as  there  is  a  tendency  in  the  seed  to 
bring  forth  thirty  to  a  hundredfold.  Believe  and  walk  in  the 
light  you  have,  and  it  shall  grow  from  more  to  more  unto  noon- 
day splendour.  If  in  the  darkness  a  man,  loving  the  light,  sow 
the  seeds  of  light,  further  illumination  shall  come  to  him  here- 
after. 

^  "  Curses  come  home  to  roost,"  says  the  proverb.  No  less 
do  gentle  speech  and  kindly  acts  come  back  to  nestle  softly  in  our 
hearts.  Faber,  the  Koman  Catholic  poet,  sings  how  he  caught  up 
a  little  child  and  kissed  it  and  gave  it  new  joy  in  the  sense  of 
having  made  a  new  friend.    And  then  he  adds : 

I  am  a  happier  and  a  richer  man. 

Since  I  have  sown  this  new  joy  in  the  earth: 

'Tis  no  small  thing  for  us  to  reap  stray  mirth. 

In  every  sunny  wayside  where  we  can. 

It  is  a  joy  to  me  to  be  a  joy. 

Which  may  in  the  most  lowly  heart  take  root; 

And  it  is  gladness  to  that  little  boy 

To  look  out  for  me  at  the  mountain  foot. 


»  J.  Kelman,  The  Road,  i.  9. 


Tennyson. 


All  His  Benefits. 


283 


Literature. 


Brooke  (S.  A.),  CJirist  in  Modern  Life,  351. 

„  „       The  Gospel  of  Joy,  67. 

„  „       The  Ship  of  the  Soul,  16. 

Brown  (A.  G.),  in  The  People's  Pulpit,  No.  20. 

„      (C.  G.),  The  Word  of  Life,  141. 
Campbell  (J.  M.),  Grow  Old  Along  with  Me,  19. 
Cross  (J.),  Knight-Banneret,  292. 
Drummond  (H.),  The  Ideal  Life,  145. 
Hall  (F.  0.),  Soul  and  Body,  73. 
Hutton  (J.  A.),  The  Soul's  Triumphant  Way,  23. 
Iverach  (J.),  The  Other  Side  of  Greatness,  119. 
Macmillan  (H.),  2'he  Ministry  of  Nature,  321, 
Matheson  (G.),  Leaves  for  Quiet  Hours,  213. 
Miller  (J.),  Sermons  Literary  and  Scientific,  i.  270, 
Morrison  (G.  H.),  The  Oldest  Trade  in  the  World,  103. 
Myres  (W.  M.),  Fragments  that  Remain,  89. 
New  (C),  The  Baptism  of  the  Spirit,  278. 
Owen  (J.),  The  Renewal  of  Youth,  1. 
Pearce  (J.),  The  Alabaster  Box,  141. 
Price  (A.  C),  Fifty  Sermons,  vii.  17. 
Robinson  (W.  V.),  Angel  Voices,  137. 
Selby  (T.  G.),  The  Unheeding  God,  216. 

Spurgeon  (G.  H.),  Metropolitan  Tabernacle  Pulpit,  xviii.  (1872),  No. 

1078 ;  XXV.  (1879),  No.  1492 ;  xlix.  (1903),  No.  2860. 

„  „        Evening  by  Evening,  152. 

Voysey  (C),  Sermons^  xviii.  (1895),  No.  34  ;  xxv.  (1902),  No.  44 ;  xxvii. 

(1904),  No.  10. 

Christian  Woi-ld  Pulpit,  xxvii.  161  (M.  G.  Pearse)  ;  xxxvi.  218  (A.  B. 

Bruce)  ;  xlix.  72  (J.  Stalker)  ;  Ixxv.  59  (J.  Birch). 
Contemporary  Pulpit,  1st  Ser.,  viii.  10  (A.  Whyte)  ;  ix.  175  (A.  Saphir). 
Weekly  Pulpit,  i.  582  (1).  Daiiii). 


a84 


All  His  Benefits. 


Bless  the  Lord,  O  my  soul ; 

And  all  that  is  within  me,  bless  his  holy  name. 

Bless  the  Lord,  O  my  soul. 

And  forget  not  all  his  benefits  : 

Who  forgiveth  all  thine  iniquities  ; 

Who  healeth  all  thy  diseases  ; 

Who  redeemeth  thy  life  from  destruction  ; 

Who  crowneth  thee  with  lovingkindness  and  tender  mercies: 

Who  satisfieth  thy  mouth  with  good  things ; 

So  that  thy  youth  is  renewed  like  the  eagle.— Ps.  ciii.  1-5. 

This  psalm,  with  which  we  are  all  familiar  from  our  childhood, 
shines  in  the  firmament  of  Scripture  as  a  star  of  the  first  magni- 
tude. It  is  a  song  of  praise,  yet  not  the  praise  of  an  angel,  but 
the  praise  of  one  who  has  been  redeemed  from  sin  and  from 
destruction,  and  who  has  experienced  that  grace  which,  although 
sin  abounds  unto  death,  doth  much  more  abound  unto  eternal 
life.  It  is  the  song  of  a  saint,  yet  not  of  a  glorified  saint,  but  of 
one  who  is  still  working  in  the  lowly  valley  of  this  our  earthly 
pilgrimage,  and  who  has  to  contend  with  suffering,  with  sin,  and 
to  experience  the  chastening  hand  of  his  Heavenly  Father.  And 
therefore  it  is  that  this  psalm,  after  beginning  upon  the  lofty 
mountain  heights  of  God's  greatness  and  goodness,  in  which  all 
is  bright  and  strong  and  eternal,  descends  into  the  valley  where 
the  path  is  always  narrow  and  often  full  of  darkness  and  danger 
and  sadness.  But  as  the  Psalmist  lives  by  faith,  and  as  he  is 
saved  by  faith,  so  he  is  also  saved  by  hope;  and  after  having 
described  all  the  sadness  and  all  the  afflictions  and  conflicts  of 
this  our  earthly  pilgrimage,  he  shows  that  even  at  this  present 
time  he  is  a  member  of  that  heavenly  and  everlasting  Kingdom  of 
which  the  throne  of  God  is  the  centre,  and  where  the  angels,  who 
are  bright  and  strong,  are  his  fellow-worshippers,  and  in  which 

all  the  works  which  God  has  made  will  finally  be  subservient  to 

285 


286 


ALL  HIS  BENEFITS 


His  glory  and  be  irradiated  with  His  beauty.  And  thus  he  rises 
again,  praising  and  magnifying  the  Lord  and  knowing  that  his 
own  individual  soul  shall,  in  that  vast  and  comprehensive 
Kingdom,  for  evermore  be  conscious  of  the  life  and  of  the  glory  of 
the  Most  High. 

I. 

Bless  the  Lord. 

1.  To  praise  God,  to  bless  God,  is  only  the  response  to  the 
blessing  which  God  has  given  us.  God  speaks,  and  the  echo 
is  praise.  God  blesses  us  and  the  response  is  that  we  bless 
God.  And  those  five  verses  of  praise  in  Psalm  ciii.  are  nothing 
but  the  answer  of  the  believing  heart  to  the  benediction  of 
Aaron,  which  God  commanded  should  be  continually  laid  upon 
the  people.  The  Lord  who  is  the  God  of  salvation ;  the  Lord, 
who  has  revealed  His  Holy  Name  as  Eedeemer ;  the  Lord  who, 
by  His  Spirit,  imparts  what  the  Father  of  love  gives,  what  the 
filial  love  reveals — this  is  the  Lord  who  is  the  object  of  the 
believer's  praise.  For  to  praise  God  means  nothing  else  than  to 
behold  God  and  to  delight  in  Him  as  the  God  of  our  salvation. 
Singing  may  be  the  expression  of  praise,  may  be  the  helpful 
accompaniment  of  praise,  but  praise  is  in  the  spirit  who  dwells 
upon  God,  who  sees  the  wonderful  manifestation  of  God  in  His 
Son  Jesus  Christ,  and  the  wonderful  salvation  and  treasures  of 
good  things  stored  up  in  His  beloved  Son. 

If  We  commonly  begin  our  prayers  with  a  request  that  God 
will  bless  us ;  the  Psalmist  begins  his  prayer  by  calling  on  his  soul 
to  bless  God !  The  eye  of  the  heart  is  generally  directed  first  to 
its  own  desires ;  the  eye  of  the  Psalmist's  heart  is  directed  first  to 
the  desires  of  God  !  It  is  a  startling  feature  of  prayer,  a  feature 
seldom  looked  at.  We  think  of  prayer  as  a  mount  where  man 
stands  to  receive  the  Divine  blessing.  We  do  not  often  think  of 
it  as  also  a  mount  where  God  stands  to  receive  the  human  blessing. 
Yet  this  latter  is  the  thought  here.  Nay,  is  it  not  the  thought  of 
our  Lord  Himself  ?  I  have  often  meditated  on  these  words  of 
Jesus,  "  Seek  ye  first  the  kingdom  of  God  and  his  righteousness  " ! 
I  take  thorn  to  mean :  Seek  ye  first  the  welfare  of  God,  the 
establishment  of  His  Kingdom,  the  reign  of  His  righteousness ! 


PSALM  cm.  1-5 


287 


Before  you  yield  to  self-pity,  before  you  count  the  number  of  the 
things  you  want,  consider  what  things  are  still  wanting  to  Him ! 
Consider  the  spheres  of  life  to  which  His  Kingdom  has  not  yet 
spread,  consider  the  human  hearts  to  which  His  righteousness  has 
not  yet  penetrated  !  Let  your  spirit  say,  "  Bless  the  Lord."  Let 
the  blessing  upon  God  be  your  morning  wish.  It  is  not  your 
power  He  asks,  but  your  wish.  Your  benediction  cannot  sway  the 
forces  of  the  Universe ;  your  Father  can  do  that  without  prayer. 
But  it  is  the  prayer  itself  that  is  dear  to  Him,  the  desire  of  your 
heart  for  His  heart's  joy,  the  cry  of  your  spirit  for  His  crowning, 
the  longing  of  your  soul  for  the  triumph  of  His  love.  Evermore 
give  Him  this  bread  !  ^ 

^  If  we  want  to  know  what  it  is  to  praise  God,  let  us  re- 
member such  a  chapter  as  the  first  chapter  of  the  Epistle  to  the 
Ephesians,  where  Paul  blesses  God  who  has  blessed  him  with  all 
spiritual  blessings  in  heavenly  places  in  Christ,  and  where  he  sees 
before  him  the  whole  counsel  and  purpose  of  the  Divine  election, 
of  the  wonderful,  perfect,  and  complete  channel  of  the  purposes 
of  God  in  the  redemption  which  is  in  the  blood  of  Jesus,  and  the 
wonderful  object  and  purpose  of  the  Divine  grace,  that  we,  united 
with  Christ,  should  through  all  ages  show  forth  the  wonderful  love 
of  God.  That  is  to  praise  God,  when  we  see  God  and  when  we 
appropriate  God  as  He  has  manifested  Himself  to  us  in  Christ 
Jesus.  And  it  is  only  by  the  light  which  comes  from  above,  and 
by  the  wonderful  operation  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  that  it  is  so 
wrought  in  the  heart  of  the  Christian,  although  it  may  be  in 
silence,  that  his  soul  magnifieth  the  Lord  and  his  spirit  rejoiceth 
in  God  his  Saviour.^ 

2.  "  Bless  the  Lord,  0  my  soul ;  and  ail  that  is  within  me, 
bless  his  holy  name."  The  Psalmist  desires  to  bless  God  with  all 
that  is  within  him.  He  who  succeeds  in  doing  this  offers  to  God 
an  eloquent  worship.  Eloquence  means  speaking  out,  letting  the 
whole  soul  find  utterance.  And  the  Psalm  before  us  supplies  us 
with  a  choice  sample  of  the  kind  of  worship  made  by  David.  In 
this  Psalm,  mind,  heart,  conscience,  imagination,  all  come  into 
play.  The  whole  inner  man  speaks  rightfully,  thoughtfully, 
devoutly,  musically,  pathetically ;  and,  as  was  to  be  expected,  God 
is  praised  to  some  purpose. 

\  The  metrical  version  of  the  Psalm  puts  us  in  possession  of 
the  ifuller  meaning  of  this  verse : 

^  G.  Mathesoii,  Leaves  for  Quiet  Hours^  213.  *  A.  Saphir. 


288 


ALL  HIS  BENEFITS 


0  thou  my  soul,  bless  God  the  Lord; 

And  all  that  in  me  is 
Be  stirred  up  his  holy  name 

To  magnify  and  bless. 

How  truly  and  with  what  fine  knowledge  of  the  soul  of  every 
spiritual  man  has  this  rendering  caught  the  real  point  of  that 
verse !  And  it  is  not  this  once  only  that  the  metrical  psalm 
selects  and  emphasizes  some  word  which  we  did  not  quite  realize 
in  the  prose  version.  Here  and  there  it  may  be  that  to  our  modish 
and  sophisticated  ears  the  psalms  in  metre  may  fail  as  poetry ; 
but  they  never  fail  in  spiritual  discernment.  They  always  take 
hold  of  the  point,  of  the  real  business  of  the  prose  text.  They 
always  recognize  the  matters  which  really  concern  our  souls ;  so 
that  again  and  again  the  metrical  psalm  serves  as  a  kind  of  com- 
mentary upon  the  prose,  developing  the  finer  sentiments,  briuging 
out  of  the  text  certain  beauties  which  we  might  never  have 
become  aware  of,  though  we  recognize  them  at  once  the  moment 
they  are  set  out  for  us.  You  see  wliat  I  mean  in  this  particular 
instance.  The  prose  reads :  "  Bless  the  Lord,  0  my  soul ;  and  all 
that  is  within  me,  bless  his  holy  name."  We  might  read  those 
words  again  and  again,  feeling  in  each  case  that  it  is  merely 
a  devout  utterance  of  the  soul,  having  nothing  individual  or 
characteristic  about  it.  But  how  the  metrical  version  cuts  down 
to  the  root  of  the  idea !  What  a  distinction,  what  a  precise 
meaning,  the  metrical  form  gives  to  the  prayer ! 

O  thou  my  soul,  bless  God  the  Lord; 

And  all  that  in  me  is 
Be  stirred  up  his  holy  name 

To  magnify  and  bless. 

It  was  pure  spiritual  genius  to  bring  out  that  idea  of  "  stirring 
up  "  all  that  is  within  our  souls.^ 

IL 

Forget  Not. 

If  we  would  rightly  praise  God,  we  must  keep  ourselves  from 
forgetfulness.  Moses  warns  against  this  vice  when  he  says: 
"  Beware  lest  thou  forget  the  Lord  thy  God,  in  not  keeping  his 
commandments,  and  his  judgments  and  his  statutes,  wliich  I 

*  J.  A.  Ilutton,  The  Soul's  Triumphant  Way,  23. 


PSALM  cm.  1-5 


289 


command  thee  this  day,  lest  when  thou  hast  eaten  and  art 
full,  and  hast  built  goodly  houses,  and  dwelt  therein;  and 
when  thy  herds  and  thy  flocks  multiply,  and  thy  silver  and 
thy  gold  is  multiplied,  and  all  that  thou  hast  is  multiplied; 
then  thine  heart  be  lifted  up,  and  thou  forget  the  Lord  thy 
God,  which  brought  thee  forth  out  of  the  land  of  Egypt,  out 
of  the  house  of  bondage."  In  the  Prophets  the  sad  complaint 
re-echoes  from  the  Lord's  mouth:  "Ye  are  they  that  forget 
my  holy  mountain." 

^  One  of  the  first  stories  I  recall  from  my  childhood  was  a 
story  of  the  evil  of  forgetting  God.  I  remember  the  very  spot  on 
which  it  was  told  to  me.  I  feel  the  warm  grasp  of  the  hand 
which  had  hold  of  mine  at  the  time.  I  see  once  more  the  little 
seaport  town  stretching  up  from  the  river  mouth,  with  its 
straggling  "  fisher  town "  at  one  extremity,  and  at  the  other  its 
rows  of  well-built  streets  and  its  town  hall  and  academy.  On 
this  occasion  we  were  standing  on  a  high  bank  looking  down  on 
the  beautiful  shore  at  our  feet.  Across  the  tiny  harbour,  and 
along  the  shore  on  the  other  side  of  the  river,  is  a  very  different 
scene.  What  one  sees  there  is  a  dreary  waste  of  sand.  No  grass 
grows  there,  no  trees  shadow  it,  no  house  stands  upon  it.  It  is  a 
place  forsaken  and  desolate.  It  has  been  a  desolation  longer  than 
the  oldest  inhabitant  can  remember.  But  it  was  not  always 
desolate.  It  was  once  a  fair  estate,  rich  in  cornfields  and  orchards. 
A  stately  mansion  stood  in  the  midst  of  it,  and  children  played 
in  the  orchards,  and  reapers  reaped  the  corn.  But  the  lords  of 
that  fair  estate  were  an  evil  race.  They  oppressed  the  poor, 
they  despised  religion,  they  did  not  remember  God.  They  loved 
pleasure  more  than  God,  and  the  pleasures  they  loved  were  evil. 
To  make  an  open  show  of  their  evil  ways  they  turned  the  day  of 
,  the  Lord  into  a  day  of  rioting  and  drunkenness.  And  this  evil 
I  went  on  a  long  while.  It  went  on  till  the  long-suffering  of  God 
came  to  an  end.  And  then  upon  a  Sunday  evening,  and  in  the 
harvest-time,  when  the  corn  was  whitening  for  the  reaper,  the  riot 
and  wickedness  had  come  to  a  height.  The  evil  lord  and  his  evil 
guests  were  feasting  in  the  hall  of  the  splendid  house.  And  on 
that  very  evening  there  came  a  sudden  darkness  and  stillness  into 
[  the  heavens,  and  out  of  the  darkness  a  wind,  and  out  of  the  wind 
:  a  tempest ;  and,  as  if  that  tempest  had  been  a  living  creature,  it 
lifted  the  sand  from  the  shore  in  great  whirls  and  clouds  and 
filled  the  air  with  it,  and  dropped  it  down  in  blinding,  suffocating 
showers  on  all  those  fields  of  corn,  and  on  that  mansion,  and  on 
the  evil-doers  within.  And  the  fair  estate,  with  all  its  beautiful 
PS.  xxv.-cxix. — 19 


290  ALL  HIS  BENEFITS 


gardens  and  fields,  became  a  widespread  heap  of  sand  and  a 
desolation,  as  it  is  to  this  daj.^ 

III. 

All  His  Benefits. 

Of  the  benefits  that  David  enumerates  the  first  three  are  all 
negative :  He  forgives  our  sin,  He  heals  the  consequences  of  our 
sin,  our  diseases,  He  delivers  us  from  destruction,  the  wages  of 
our  sin.  But  in  the  forgiveness  of  sin  and  in  the  healing  of  our 
diseases,  in  the  deliverance  from  the  devil  and  from  everlasting  hell, 
God  gives  Himself,  He  gives  the  whole  fulness  of  His  love,  He 
elevates  the  soul  into  the  very  highest  spiritual  life  ;  and  therefore, 
the  Psalmist  continues,  he  who  has  been  thus  delivered  out  of 
destruction  is  a  king,  he  is  crowned  with  lovingkindness  and  with 
tender  mercies,  he  is  enriched  and  satisfied  with  good  things  ;  and 
not  merely  outwardly  enriched,  but  there  is  a  life  given  him  which 
is  unfading,  the  youth  of  which  is  perennial,  continually  renewing 
itself  by  the  very  strength  of  God. 

1.  The  Psalmist  sets  himself  to  count  up  the  benefits  he  has 
received  from  God.  He  has  not  proceeded  very  far  when  he 
finds  himself  to  be  engaged  in  an  impossible  task.  He  finds  he 
cannot  count  the  blessings  he  has  received  in  a  single  day,  how 
then  can  he  number  the  blessings  of  a  week,  of  a  month,  of  a 
year,  of  the  years  of  his  life  ?  He  might  as  well  try  to  count  the 
number  of  the  stars  or  the  grains  of  sand  on  the  seashore.  It 
cannot  be  done. 

^  St.  Francis,  dining  one  day  on  broken  bread,  with  a  large 
stone  for  table,  cried  out  to  his  companion :  "  0  brother  Masseo, 
we  are  not  worthy  so  great  a  treasure."  When  he  had  repeated 
these  words  several  times,  his  companion  answered :  "  Father, 
how  can  you  talk  of  treasure  where  there  is  so  much  poverty,  and 
indeed  a  lack  of  all  things  ?  For  we  have  neither  cloth  nor  knife, 
nor  dish,  nor  table,  nor  house ;  neither  have  we  servant  nor  maid 
to  wait  upon  us."  Then  said  St.  Francis :  "  And  this  is  why  I 
look  upon  it  as  a  great  treasure,  because  man  has  no  hand  in  it, 
but  all  has  been  given  us  by  Divine  Providence,  as  we  clearly  see 
^  Alexander  MgLeod, 


PSALM  cm.  1-5 


291 


in  this  bread  of  charity,  in  this  beautiful  table  of  stone,  in  this 
clear  fountain."  ^ 

^  I  was  walking  along  one  winter's  night,  hurrying  towards 
home,  with  my  little  maiden  at  my  side.  Said  she,  "  Father,  I 
am  going  to  count  the  stars."  "  Very  well,"  I  said ;  "  go  on." 
By  and  by  I  heard  her  counting — "  Two  hundred  and  twenty- 
three,  two  hundred  and  twenty-four,  two  hundred  and  twenty- 
five.  Oh  !  dear,"  she  said,  "  I  had  no  idea  there  were  so  many." 
Ah !  dear  friends,  I  sometimes  say  in  my  soul,  "  Now,  Master,  I 
am  going  to  count  Thy  benefits."  I  am  like  the  little  maiden. 
Soon  my  heart  sighs — sighs  not  with  sorrow,  but  burdened  with 
such  goodness,  and  I  say  within  myself,  "  Ah  !  I  had  no  idea  that 
there  were  so  many."  ^ 

2.  But  if  he  cannot  remember  them  all,  he  may  at  least 
try  not  to  forget  them  all.    He  may  try  to  remember  some  of 
them.    But  this  also  is  a  hard  task.    For  memory  is  weak,  and 
the  blessings  are  many  and  manifold.    How  can  he  help  himself 
not  to  forget?    How  shall  he  help  himself  to  remember  those 
benefits  which  he  values  most  highly  ?    He  sets  himself  to  find 
helps  to  memory,  helps  not  to  forget.    So  he  falls  upon  a  plan 
which  he  finds  to  be  most  helpful,  and  which  others  ever  since 
have  found  to  be  so.    He  takes  those  benefits  which  he  desires  not 
to  forget,  and  he  ties  them  up  in  bundles.    And  then,  to  make 
I  sure  that  he  will  not  forget  them,  the  Psalmist  shapes  the 
bundles  of  God's  benefits  into  a  song.    A  song  is  the  easiest  thing 
:   of  all  to  remember.    So  he  shapes  them  into  a  song,  which  people 
i   can  sing  by  the  wayside  as  they  journey,  can  carry  with  them 
to  their  work,  and  brood  over  in  their  hours  of  leisure. 

^  By  tying  the  benefits  up  in  bundles,  and  by  shaping  them 
into  a  song,  the  Psalmist  earned  for  himself  the  undying  gratitude 
I  of  future  generations.  Specially  has  he  earned  for  himself  our 
I  gratitude,  for  he  gave  us  a  song  which  we  sing  in  Scotland  to-day, 
i  and  have  sung  for  more  than  three  hundred  years,  when  our 
(  religious  emotions  are  at  their  highest  and  their  best.  We  sing 
\  this  song  when  the  feeling  of  consecration  has  been  renewed, 
j  widened,  and  deepened  by  communion  with  God  at  His  table. 
^  I  never  was  at  a  communion-time  at  which  this  song  has  not  been 
j  sung,  and  no  other  song  could  do  justice  to  the  feelings  of  gratitude 

'  ^  E.  Meynell,  The  Life  of  Francis  Thompson  (1913),  283. 

2  M.  G.  Pearse. 


li 


292  ALL  HIS  BENEFITS 

of  the  Lord's  people.  So  we  sing,  "  Bless  the  Lord,  0  my  soul, 
and  forget  not  all  his  benefits :  who  forgiveth,  who  healeth,  who 
redeemeth,  who  crowneth,  and  who  satisfieth."  ^ 

i. 

Forgiveness. 

"Who  forgiveth  all  thine  iniquities." 

Note  how  the  Psalmist  begins.  He  begins  with  iniquity. 
Where  else  could  a  sinful  man  begin  ?  The  most  needful  of  all 
things  for  a  sinful  man  is  to  get  rid  of  his  sin.  So  the  Psalmist 
begins  here.  This  beginning  is  not  peculiar  to  him,  it  is  the 
common  note  of  the  Bible.  In  fact,  we  here  come  across  one  of 
the  distinctive  peculiarities  of  the  Bible.  We  may  read  other 
literatures  and  never  come  across  the  notion  of  sin  in  them. 
Crimes,  blunders,  mistakes,  miseries  enough  one  may  find,  but  sin 
as  estrangement  from  a  holy  personal  God  who  loves  man  and 
would  serve  him  one  never  finds.  But  in  the  Bible  we  are  face 
to  face  with  sin  from  first  to  last.  One  chapter  and  a  bit  of 
another  are  given  to  the  story  of  the  making  of  the  world  and 
the  making  of  man,  and  then  the  story  of  the  entrance  of  sin  is 
told,  and  the  reader  is  kept  face  to  face  with  sin  in  every  part  of 
it.  In  the  gospel  story  we  read  at  the  outset :  "  Thou  shalt  call 
his  name  Jesus :  for  he  shall  save  his  people  from  their  sins  " ; 
and  in  John  almost  the  first  word  about  Him  is,  "  Behold  the 
Lamb  of  God,  which  taketh  away  the  sin  of  the  world."  It  is 
characteristic  of  the  Bible  to  keep  its  reader  face  to  face  with  sin 
and  its  consequences,  till  he  is  stirred  up  to  the  effort  to  get 
rid  of  it. 

^  Sometimes  in  business  a  man  will  say :  "  There  is  a  limit  to 
everything.  I  have  trusted  such  an  one,  and  he  has  deceived  me. 
I  have  forgiven  him  much,  but  now  he  has  crossed  the  score,  and 
I  will  have  no  more  dealings  with  him."  But  it  is  only  when 
men,  in  their  own  estimation,  have  got  over  that  score  that  the 
heavenly  business  begins.  Some  minister  comes  from  somewhere, 
to  preach  some  day,  and  preaches  the  forgiveness  of  sins,  and  that 
is  the  beginning  of  the  business;  and  at  length  the  man  finds 
Heaven  for  himself,  and  can  say:  "He  forgiveth  all  mine 
iniquities."  ^ 

1  James  Iverach,  The  Other  Side  of  Greatness,  121.  »  A.  Whyte. 


PSALM  cm.  1-5 


293 


ii. 

Healing-. 

"Who  healeth  all  thy  diseases." 

Once  a  prophet  said,  "  From  the  sole  of  the  foot  even  unto  the 
head  there  is  no  soundness  in  it ;  but  wounds,  and  bruises,  and 
putrefying  sores."  When  we  read  these  words,  we  are  inclined  to 
say  they  are  Oriental  figures  of  speech,  exaggerated  metaphors. 
If  our  spiritual  vision  were  as  keen  as  that  of  the  prophet,  we 
should  find  that  he  was  speaking  what  he  knew.  Sin  then  makes 
disease,  and  God's  relation  to  disease  is  described  as  that  of 
healing.  In  the  Scriptures  this  relation  is  described  so  fully  that 
it  gives  a  distinctive  name  for  God — Jehovah  the  Healer.  He 
not  only  forgives  sin.  He  also  so  deals  with  the  results  of  sin  that 
He  removes  every  trace  of  sin.    He  heals  all  our  diseases. 

^  The  nineteenth  century  produced  three  famous  persons  in 
this  country  who  contributed  more  than  any  of  their  contem- 
poraries to  the  relief  of  human  suffering  in  disease  :  Simpson,  the 
introducer  of  chloroform;  Lister,  the  inventor  of  antiseptic 
surgery;  and  Florence  Nightingale,  the  founder  of  modern 
nursing.  The  second  of  the  great  discoveries  completed  the 
beneficent  w^ork  of  the  first.  The  third  development  —  the 
creation  of  nursing  as  a  trained  profession — has  co-operated 
powerfully  with  the  other  two,  and  would  have  been  beneficent 
even  if  the  use  of  anaesthetics  and  antiseptics  had  not  been 
discovered.  The  contribution  of  Florence  Nightingale  to  the 
healing  art  was  less  than  that  of  either  Simpson  or  Lister ;  but 
perhaps,  from  its  wider  range,  it  has  saved  as  many  lives,  and 
relieved  as  much,  if  not  so  acute,  suffering  as  either  of  the  other 
two.^ 

iii. 

Redemption. 

"Who  redeemeth  thy  life  from  destruction." 

That  is,  God  preserves  the  life  that  He  saves.    Here  is  first 
a  Hfe  forfeited.    That  life  is  then  saved  by  forgiveness.  Then 
there  is  a  life  imperilled  by  disease,  and  saved  by  God's  healing. 
But  that  life  is  in  a  thousand  dangers.    Many  seek  after  the 
^  Sir  Edward  Cook,  The  Lift  of  Florence  Nightingale,  i.  439. 


294 


ALL  HIS  BENEFITS 


young  child — the  Christ  within  us — to  destroy  it.  But  God 
"redeemeth  thy  life  from  destruction."  How  often  God  has 
saved  some  of  us  from  impending  ruin,  He  alone  knows. 

^  In  my  native  town  of  Stirling  workmen  were  blasting  the 
castle  rock  near  where  it  abuts  upon  a  wall  that  lies  open  to 
the  street.  The  train  was  laid  and  lit,  and  an  explosion  was 
momentarily  expected.  Suddenly,  trotting  round  the  great  wall 
of  cliff,  came  a  little  child  going  straight  to  where  the  match 
burned.  The  men  shouted.  That  was  mercy.  But  by  their  very 
shouting  they  alarmed  and  bewildered  the  poor  little  thing.  By 
this  time  the  mother  also  had  come  round.  In  a  moment  she 
saw  the  danger,  opened  wide  her  arms,  and  cried  from  her  very 
heart,  "  Come  to  me,  my  darling."  That  was  tender  mercy ; 
and  instantly,  with  eager,  pattering  feet,  the  little  thing  ran  back 
and  away,  and  stopped  not  until  she  was  clasped  in  her  mother's 
bosom.  Not  a  moment  too  soon,  as  the  roar  of  the  shattered 
rock  told.^ 

^  I  remember  one  who  had  been  for  a  long  time  drifting 
towards  an  evil  act  which  was  certain  to  do  more  harm  to  others 
than  ibo  himself,  but  who  had  not  as  yet  determined  on  flinging 
friends,  society,  work,  good  repute,  his  past  and  future,  and  God 
Himself,  to  the  winds.  The  one  thing  that  kept  him  back  was  a 
remnant  of  belief  in  God,  in  One  beyond  humanity,  beyond  the 
world's  laws  of  convention  and  morality.  Nothing  else  was  left, 
for  he  had,  in  the  desire  for  this  wrong  thing,  passed  beyond 
caring  whether  the  whole  world  went  against  him,  whether  he 
injured  others  or  not.  He  was  as  ready  to  destroy  all  the  use  of 
his  own  life  as  he  was  careless  of  the  use  of  the  lives  of  others. 
But  he  felt  a  slow  and  steady  pull  against  him.  He  said  to 
himself,  "This  is  God,  though  I  know  Him  not."  At  last, 
however,  he  determined  to  have  his  way.  One  day  the  loneliness 
and  longing  had  been  too  great  to  be  borne,  and  when  night  came  he 
went  down  his  garden  resolved  on  the  evil  thing.  "  This  night," 
he  said,  "  I  will  take  the  plunge."  But  as  he  went  he  heard  the 
distant  barking  of  a  dog  in  the  village ;  the  moon  rose  above  a 
dark  yew  tree  at  the  end  of  the  garden,  and  he  was  abruptly 
stopped  in  the  midst  of  the  pathway.  Something  seemed  to 
touch  him  as  with  a  finger,  and  to  push  him  back.  It  was  not 
till  afterwards  that  he  analysed  the  feeling,  and  knew  that  the 
rising  of  the  moon  over  the  yew  tree  and  the  barking  of  the  dog 
in  the  distance  had  brought  back  to  him  an  hour  in  his  childhood, 
when  in  the  dusk  he  had  sat  with  his  mother,  after  his  father's 


A.  Grosart. 


PSALM  cm.  1-5 


295 


death,  in  the  same  garden,  and  had  heard  her  say — "  When  thou 
passest  through  the  waters,  I  will  be  with  thee;  and  through 
the  rivers,  they  shall  not  overflow  thee."  It  was  this  slight 
touch  that  saved  him  from  wrong  which  would  have  broken 
more  lives  than  his  own.  It  was  God  speaking;  but  it  would 
have  been  as  nothing  to  him,  had  he  not  kept  his  little  grain  of 
faith  in  God  alive,  the  dim  consciousness  that  there  was  One  who 
cared  for  him,  who  had  interest  that  he  should  conquer  righteous- 
ness. Next  day,  he  left  his  home,  travelled  and  won  his  battle ; 
and  his  action  redeemed  not  only  his  own  but  another's 
life.i 

^  There  is  an  old  poem  which  bears  the  curious  title  of 
"  Strife  in  Heaven,"  the  idea  of  which  is  something  like  this.  The 
poet  supposes  himself  to  be  walking  in  the  streets  of  the  New 
Jerusalem,  when  he  comes  to  a  crowd  of  saints  engaged  in  a  very 
earnest  discussion.  He  draws  near  and  listens.  The  question 
they  are  discussing  is  which  of  them  is  the  greatest  monument  of 
God's  saving  grace.  After  a  long  debate,  in  which  each  states 
his  case  separately,  and  each  claims  to  have  been  by  far  the  most 
wonderful  trophy  of  God's  love  in  all  the  multitude  of  the  re- 
deemed, it  is  finally  agreed  to  settle  the  matter  by  a  vote.  Vote 
after  vote  is  taken,  and  the  list  of  competition  is  gradually 
reduced  until  only  two  remain.  These  are  allowed  to  state  their 
case  again,  and  the  company  stand  ready  to  join  in  the  final  vote. 
The  first  to  speak  is  a  very  old  man.  He  begins  by  saying  that 
it  is  a  mere  waste  of  time  to  go  any  further;  it  is  absolutely 
impossible  that  God's  grace  could  have  done  more  for  any  man  in 
heaven  than  for  him.  He  tells  again  how  he  had  led  a  most 
wicked  and  vicious  life — a  life  filled  up  with  every  conceivable 
indulgence,  and  marred  with  every  crime.  He  has  been  a  thief,  a 
liar,  a  blasphemer,  a  drunkard,  and  a  murderer.  On  his  death-bed, 
at  the  eleventh  hour,  Christ  came  to  him  and  he  was  forgiven. 
The  other  is  also  an  old  man,  who  says,  in  a  few  words,  that  he 
was  brought  to  Christ  when  he  was  a  boy.  He  had  led  a  quiet 
and  uneventful  life,  and  had  looked  forward  to  heaven  as  long  as 
he  could  remember.  The  vote  is  taken ;  and,  of  course,  you  would 
say  it  results  in  favour  of  the  first.  But  no,  the  votes  are  all 
given  to  the  last.  We  might  have  thought,  perhaps,  that  the  one 
who  led  the  reckless,  godless  life — he  who  had  lied,  thieved, 
blasphemed,  murdered  ;  he  who  was  saved  by  the  skin  of  his  teeth, 
just  a  moment  before  it  might  have  been  too  late — had  the  most 
to  thank  God  for.  But  the  old  poet  knew  the  deeper  truth.  It 
required  great  grace  verily  to  pluck  that  withered  brand  from  the 

1  S.  A.  Brooke,  The  Shi^p  of  the  Soul,  23. 


296 


ALL  HIS  BENEFITS 


burning.  It  required  depths,  absolutely  fathomless  depths,  of 
mercy  to  forgive  that  veteran  in  sin  at  the  close  of  all  those 
guilty  years.  But  it  required  more  grace  to  keep  that  other  life 
from  guilt  through  all  those  tempted  years.  It  required  more 
grace  to  save  him  from  the  sins  of  his  youth  and  keep  his 
Christian  boyhood  pure,  to  steer  him  scathless  through  the 
tempted  years  of  riper  manhood,  to  crown  his  days  with  useful- 
ness, and  his  old  age  with  patience  and  hope.  Both  started  in 
life  together ;  to  one  grace  came  at  the  end,  to  the  other  at  the 
beginning.  The  first  was  saved  from  the  guilt  of  sin,  the  second 
from  the  power  of  sin  as  well.  The  first  was  saved  from  dying 
in  sin.  But  he  who  became  a  Christian  in  his  boyhood  was  saved 
from  living  in  sin.  The  one  required  just  one  great  act  of  love  at 
the  close  of  life ;  the  other  had  a  life  full  of  love — it  was  a  greater 
salvation  by  far.  His  soul  was  forgiven  like  the  other,  but  his 
life  was  redeemed  from  destruction.^ 

iv. 
Crowningf. 

"  Who  crowneth  thee  with  lovingkindness  and  tender  mercies." 

So  far  the  Psalmist  has  been  thinking  of  God's  action  as  it 
is  defined  in  relation  to  sin.  Now  his  thoughts  take  a  grander 
fliglit,  and  he  thinks  of  the  Divine  action  when  sin  is  taken  out 
of  the  way,  and  no  longer  presents  a  barrier  to  the  fellowship 
between  God  and  His  people.  His  words  take  on  a  finer  mean- 
ing, and  mould  themselves  into  a  more  musical  fotm.  For  he 
tries  to  represent  the  intercourse  between  God  and  the  children 
of  God,  when  sin  is  removed  from  between  them.  "Who 
crowneth  thee  with  lovingkindness  and  tender  mercies."  These 
words  are  about  the  most  musical  and  pathetic  in  the  whole 
Bible,  and  they  are  as  fine  in  meaning  as  they  are  in  form. 

IF  God  puts  honour  upon  the  brow  of  a  forgiven  man.  He 
does  not  merely  forgive,  and  that  in  a  formal  way,  but,  when  He 
forgives,  He  crowns.  He  crowns  me  with  the  title  of  "  son,"  and 
He  places  the  coronet  of  heirship  upon  my  head,  for  "  if  children, 
then  heirs ;  heirs  of  God,  and  joint-heirs  with  Jesus  Christ."  Sweet 
picture  this.  Observe  that  it  is  not  a  crown  of  merit,  for  "  He 
crowneth  thee  with  lovingkindness  and  tender  mercies."  This  is 
the  only  crown  that  I  can  consent  to  wear.^ 

^  H.  Drummond,  The  Ideal  Life,  149.  ^  j^^  q  Brown. 


PSALM  cm.  1-5 


297 


1.  ZovingJcindness. — Note  how  the  translators  of  the  Psalm 
have  been  constrained  to  tie  two  English  words  together  in  order 
to  set  forth  the  meaning  of  the  original.  These  translators  of  the 
Bible  were  poets  as  well  as  scholars.  They  took  the  two  words 
"  love  "  and  "  kindness  "  and  tied  them  together  in  order  to  shut 
out  the  weaker  meanings  of  both,  and  from  the  union  of  them  set 
forth  a  higher  and  better  meaning  than  either  alone  could  express. 
Love  has  always  been  recognized  to  be  the  strongest  and  best 
thing  in  the  world  of  life,  and  in  recent  years  it  has  come  to 
even  larger  recognition.  It  really  holds  society  together,  is  at  the 
basis  of  family  life,  is  the  motive  power  of  the  highest  activities 
of  mankind.  But  while  love  is  so  and  acts  so,  it  may  partake  of 
the  weakness  or  the  selfishness  of  human  nature.  It  may  become 
fierce,  jealous,  regardless  of  the  interest  of  the  person  who  is  its 
object.  It  may  look  at  the  person  merely  as  belonging  to  itself, 
and  fiercely  insist  on  exclusive  possession.  No  doubt  ideal  love 
would  labour,  toil,  and  spend  itself  for  the  good  of  the  person 
loved.  But  all  love  is  not  ideal,  and  it  may  have  more  ferocity 
than  kindness  in  it.  So  this  fierce  side  of  love  is  shut  out,  and 
only  the  ideal  side  is  kept,  and  kept  by  uniting  it  with  kindness. 
But  kindness  is  apt  to  be  weak,  injudicious,  and  foolish.  It  is  the 
kindness,  perhaps,  of  a  fond  young  mother  who  gives  the  baby 
whatever  it  desires,  cloys  it  with  sweets,  or  gives  it  unwholesome 
food  because  the  child  likes  it,  or,  as  George  MacDonald  suggests, 
gives  the  child  a  lighted  candle  because  it  cries  for  it.  This 
foolish  side  of  kindness  is  shut  out  by  tying  it  to  the  firmer, 
wiser  fact  of  love.  So  united,  kindness  becomes  lovingkindness, 
and  the  two  become,  in  their  union,  something  higher  and  better 
than  either  of  the  two  elements  contained  in  it,  when  these  are 
taken  by  themselves. 

H  Another  young  friend  writes :  "  From  such  an  array  of 
beautiful  characteristics  as  is  called  up  by  his  name  it  is  hard  to 
choose  the  greatest,  but  his  '  loving-kindness '  is  the  outstanding 
trait  that  not  only  those  who  knew  him  best,  but  those  who  came 
only  casually  into  contact  with  him,  will  remember  with  tender- 
ness. How  he  loved  every  one,  especially  '  those  who  were  of 
the  household  of  faith ' !  How  eagerly  would  he  seek  out,  even 
when  on  holiday,  the  brother-minister,  superannuated  by  affliction 
from  active  work,  to  encourage  and  help  him  by  his  sympathy,  to 
cheer  him  with  his  humour  and  his  jollity,  to  stimulate  him  with 


298  ALL  HIS  BENEFITS 


his  wide  and  varying  interests !  And  in  what  good  stead  that 
wonderful  fund  of  quiet  humour  stood  him  through  the  days  of 
pain  and  weakness  and  weariness  through  which  God's  veteran 
passed,  and  from  which  he  is  now  released  !  One  revered  him  as 
a  saint,  but  loved  him  as  a  man,  a  man  who  radiated  such  love  as 
compelled  a  willing  love  in  return."  ^ 

If  It  is  twenty-five  years  since  I  first  had  my  attention  drawn 
to  this  clause.  I  went  to  college  then,  and  one  day  a  minister 
gave  me  a  tract,  and  told  me,  "  Take  that  and  read  it,  and  when 
you  bring  it  back,  tell  me  what  you  think  of  it."  He  said  to  me 
— and  he  proved  a  sound  prophet — "  I  may  not  live  to  see  it,  but 
you  will  see  it.  The  lad  that  spoke  these  words — his  name  will 
be  heard  wherever  the  English  language  is  spoken," — the  name 
was  Charles  Spurgeon.  It  was  a  discourse  on  this  word — He 
crowneth  me  with  lovingkindness  and  tender  mercies."  He  had 
never  been  to  college,  and  had  taken  none  of  your  envied  degrees 
that  seem  to  stamp  a  man  as  a  Master  of  Divinity.  My  friend 
said :  "  I  may  not  live  to  see  it,  but  you  will."  A  young  man  in 
his  teens,  not  far  up  in  the  offices  yet,  Spurgeon  was  under 
twenty-one  when  he  preached  a  sermon  that  made  my  old  friend 
prophetic.  "  When  God  takes  a  man's  head  out  of  the  dust " — 
said  this  young  fledgling  Puritan  preacher — "  He  crowns  it  with  a 
crown  that  is  so  heavy  with  His  grace  and  goodness  that  he  could 
not  wear  it  were  it  not  lined  with  the  sweet  velvet  of  His  loving- 
kindness."  Not  a  classic  figure  perhaps,  but  Spurgeon's  figure 
is  graven  on  my  memory  while  many  a  classic  figure  has  faded 
away.  Many  a  costly  gift,  given  carelessly  with  lavish  abund- 
ance, you  have  nearly  forgotten :  but  one  gift,  given  many  years 
ago,  you  remember  still.  It  was  only  a  cup  of  cold  water, 
perhaps,  but  given  with  a  hand  and  with  a  look  of  lovingkindness. 
And  when  God  crowns  us  with  such  love  as  this,  when  He  smiles 
upon  us,  no  wonder  that  it  gladdens  the  heart  so  that  a  man 
never  forgets  it.^ 

2.  Tender  mercies. — Mercy  in  itself  is  one  of  the  grandest 
things  in  human  nature.  It  is  not  mere  feeling,  it  is  feeling  in 
action.  It  is  not  mere  sympathy  or  pity,  it  is  sympathy  made 
alive  and  active.  It  is  not  pity,  it  is  pity  going  forth  into  action, 
to  bind  up  the  broken-hearted,  to  comfort  the  sorrowful,  to  make 
the  widow's  heart  to  sing  for  joy.  But  tender  mercy  is  even 
more  than  mercy,  great  and  good  though  the  exercise  be.    It  is 

1  Love  and  Life :  The  Story  of  J.  Denholm  Brash  (1913),  179. 
^  Alexander  Whyte. 


J 


PSALM  cm.  1-5 


299 


mercy  exercised  in  the  most  tender  way.  For  mercy  may  be 
exercised  in  such  a  way  as  to  wound  the  feelings  of  the  person  to 
whom  you  are  merciful.  You  may  intend  to  help  your  friend 
who  has  fallen  into  misfortune.  He  may  have  been  blameworthy, 
his  misfortune  may  have  arisen  from  his  want  of  thought,  from 
his  recklessness,  or  even  from  wrong-doing.  You  intend  to  help 
him,  but  you  are  annoyed  with  his  conduct ;  you  insist  on  show- 
ing him  how  foolish  he  was,  how  reckless  was  his  conduct,  how 
unprincipled  was  his  motive,  until  he  almost  feels  that  he  would 
be  without  the  help  if  he  could  be  free  from  the  scolding.  Or 
you  are  merciful  to  the  person  who  asks  you  for  help,  but  you 
fling  the  penny  to  him  across  the  street.  It  is  possible  in  this 
way  to  undo  all  the  effects  of  a  merciful  action  by  the  ungracious 
way  in  which  it  is  done.  Mercy  according  to  our  text  is  exercised 
tenderly.  You  help  your  friend,  or  come  to  the  assistance  of 
those  who  are  in  poverty  and  need,  in  such  a  way  as  to  bind  up 
their  wounds,  to  cheer  them,  and  to  give  them  courage  to  begin 
the  battle  of  life  anew,  though  life  heretofore  has  been  all  a 
failure.  For  the  mercy  which  man  shows  to  man  interprets  for 
man  the  tender  mercies  of  God.  After  that  interview  with  you, 
during  which  you  entered  into  the  sorrow  of  your  friend 
sympathetically  and  tenderly,  gave  him  of  your  wisdom,  of  your 
experience,  of  your  means,  he  goes  forth  to  the  work  of  life  again 
with  a  new  outlook,  with  a  firmer  resolution  to  do  well.  He 
says  to  himself,  "  It  is  a  good,  kind  world  after  all,  and  there 
are  good,  kind  people  in  it.  I  must  show  myself  worthy 
to  live  in  so  good  a  world,  and  worthy  of  the  help  I  have 
received."  So  tender  mercies  help,  but  they  help  in  such  a  way 
as  to  bind  up  the  broken-hearted,  and  to  open  a  door  of  hope  for 
those  who  have  failed,  and  to  give  them  courage  to  lift  them 
above  the  feeling  of  despair. 

^  Stern  and  unflinching  in  his  denunciation  of  drunkenness, 
Ernest  Wilberforce  was  tenderness  itself  in  his  dealings  with  the 
individual  sinner.  Few  cases  are  more  distressing  or  more 
difficult  to  deal  with  than  those  where  a  clergyman  has  fallen  into 
habits  of  intemperance.  The  Bishop's  correspondence  in  one  of 
them  is  lying  before  me  as  I  write,  marked  throughout  by  the 
strong  sense  of  justness  and  fairness  which  ever  characterized  him, 
yet  compassionate  and  considerate,  so  far  as  consideration  was 

! 


300 


ALL  HIS  BENEFITS 


possible.  The  facts  were  clear,  and  the  unfortunate  gentleman 
was  induced  to  vacate  his  office  without  the  scandal  of  judicial 
proceedings.  But  there  were  features  which  induced  the  Bishop 
to  hope  that,  under  happier  auspices,  he  might  yet  do  good  and 
useful  work  in  his  chosen  calling.  Without  any  effort  at  mini- 
mizing the  sad  story,  he  succeeded  in  inducing  an  experienced 
parish  priest  in  another  diocese  to  give  the  transgressor  a  fresh 
start.  The  good  Samaritan  had  no  cause  to  regret  his  charity, 
and  in  writing  to  the  Bishop  he  congratulated  the  clergy  of 
Northumberland  in  having  one  set  over  them  to  whom  they  could 
appeal  with  perfect  confidence  in  the  hour  of  need.  "  If  ever,"  he 
wrote,  "  I  should  be  in  a  fix,  I  shall  wish  for  such  a  friend  as  your 
Lordship."  ^ 

V. 

Satisfaction. 

"  Who  satisfieth  thy  mouth  with  good  things ;  so  that 
thy  youth  is  renewed  like  the  eagle." 

1.  The  word  ^'  crowneth  "  suggests  something  external,  some- 
thing coming  to  us  from  without,  and  after  the  crowning  there  may 
conceivably  be  some  wants  unsupplied,  some  needs  of  man  which 
have  not  been  met.  But  the  note  of  Christianity  is  that  no 
human  needs  are  left  unsatisfied.  "  My  God  shall  supply  all  your 
need."  Satisfied  with  good,  so  that  every  need  shall  be  met — this 
is  the  promise. 

^  The  thirst  of  the  mind  for  truth,  the  thirst  of  the  will  and 
conscience  for  guidance,  and  the  thirst  of  the  heart  for  life  are 
satisfied  through  Him  who  is  the  Way,  and  the  Truth,  and  the  Life. 
If  there  were  needs  which  He  could  not  or  would  not  satisfy,  He 
would  have  told  us  of  them.* 

2.  The  Psalmist  felt,  as  we  often  feel,  that  he  had  emerged 
from  the  very  gulf  of  destruction  ;  that  he  had  been,  as  it  were 
against  his  will,  rescued  from  moral  suicide ;  that  all  his  life  had 
been  redeemed  by  God.  Therefore  he  burst  out  into  joy  and 
thanksgiving!  He  who  had  been  through  grave  sorrows;  who 
had  known  sin,  disease,  even  destruction ;  who  might  have  cursed 
life  and  shrieked  at  what  men  call  Fate ;  cries  out  in  unfeigned 

»  J.  B.  Atlay,  Bishop  Ernest  Wilherforce,  162. 
*  James  Iveracli,  The  Other  Hide  of  Greainess,  133. 


PSALM  cm.  1-5 


301 


and  mistakable  rapture — it  is  a  very  outburst  of  song — "  Bless  the 
Lord,  0  my  soul ;  and  all  that  is  within  me,  bless  his  holy  name. 
Bless  the  Lord,  0  my  soul,  and  forget  not  all  his  benefits."  And 
in  realizing  this  joyful  victory  of  the  moral  and  spiritual  powers ; 
in  the  resurrection  of  his  spiritual  being  into  strength;  in  the 
leaving  behind  him  in  its  own  grave  of  all  that  was  dead  in  his 
past ;  in  the  great  cry  of  his  heart  as  he  looked  back — "  I  am  not 
there,  I  am  risen  " — his  youth  was  renewed  like  the  eagle's  !  It 
was  a  great  triumph  ;  for  his  best  life  came  back  in  a  higher  and 
a  stronger  way,  with  now  but  little  chance  of  failure.  He  could 
again,  like  the  eagle,  look  upon  the  sun,  and  love  the  upper 
ranges  of  the  sky ;  again  soar,  but  with  steadier  beat  of  wing  than 
in  youth ;  again  possess  the  freedom  he  loved  before  disease  and 
destruction  had  enslaved  his  plumes ;  again  breathe  the  breath  of 
immortal  love ;  again  in  conscious  union  with  God  hear  the  great 
spheres  "  in  measured  motion  draw  after  the  heavenly  tune." 
And  certainty  was  now  with  this  victory,  for  he  had  known  and 
found  the  Father  of  his  spirit.  The  waters  of  his  new  life  arose 
out  of  the  fountain  Life  of  God  Himself,  and  he  knew  whence 
they  came.  There  was  now  a  source  as  well  as  a  goal  for  his 
ideals,  hopes,  efforts,  for  the  beauty  he  loved,  and  for  universal  joy. 
It  was  the  Almighty  Love  and  Life  of  loveliness  Himself  who  was 
now  in  him — a  personal  friend,  redeemer,  strengthener,  exalter ; 
who  crowned  him  with  lovingkindness  and  tender  mercies.  This 
is  the  true  resurrection ;  this  is  the  triumph  of  life. 

^  The  brilliant  Princess  Anastasia  Malsoff  (the  Nancy 
Malsoff  of  the  Eussian  Court)  was  one  of  those  led  to  Christ  by 
the  Mar^chale,  with  whom  she  kept  up  a  close  friendship  during 
the  rest  of  her  life.  One  of  the  Princess's  letters  is  peculiarly 
interesting :  "  I  will  see  the  Emperor  in  these  days,"  she  writes, 
"  and  I  will  seek  strength  to  speak  to  him.  You  see,  my  darling, 
speaking  is  not  enough,  one  must  in  such  a  case  pour  out  one's 
soul  and  feel  that  a  superior  force  guides  one  and  speaks  for  one." 
It  turned  out  as  she  hoped.  One  night  she  was  at  the  Palace  in 
St.  Petersburg.  After  dinner  the  Czar  came  and  seated  himself 
beside  her.  Soon  they  were  deep  in  intimate  conversation.  She 
began  telling  him  what  her  new-found  friend  in  Paris  had  done 
for  her.  She  talked  wisely  as  he  listened  attentively.  At  length 
he  said :  "  But,  Nancy,  you  have  always  been  good,  always  right." 
"  No,"  she  answered ;  "  till  now  I  have  never  known  the  Christ. 


ALL  HIS  BENEFITS 


She  has  made  Him  real  to  me,  brought  Him  near  to  me,  and  He 
has  become  what  He  never  was  before — my  personal  Friend."  ^ 

*||  "  I  shall  be  sorry,"  says  Eckhart,  the  German  mystic,  "  if  I 
am  not  younger  to-morrow  than  I  am  to-day — that  is,  a  step 
nearer  to  the  source  whence  I  came."  And  Swedenborg  tells  us 
that  when  heaven  was  opened  to  him  he  found  that  the  oldest 
angels  seemed  to  be  the  youngest. 

'Tis  said  there  is  a  fount  in  Flower  Land, — 
De  Leon  found  it, — where  Old  Age  away 
Throws  weary  mind  and  heart,  and  fresh  as  day 
Springs  from  the  dark  and  joins  Aurora's  band : 
This  tale,  transformed  by  some  skilled  trouvere's  wand 
From  the  old  myth  in  a  Greek  poet's  lay. 
Rests  on  no  truth.    Change  bodies  as  Time  may, 
Souls  do  not  change,  though  heavy  be  his  hand. 
Who  of  us  needs  this  fount  ?    What  soul  is  old  ? 
Age  is  a  mask, — in  heart  we  grow  more  young, 
For  in  our  winters  we  talk  most  of  spring; 
And  as  we  near,  slow-tottering,  God's  safe  fold, 
.  Youth's  loved  ones  gather  nearer: — though  among 
The  seeming  dead,  youth's  songs  more  clear  they  sing.^ 


1  J.  Strahan,  The  MarechaU  (1913),  184. 

2  Maurice  Francis  Egan. 


The  Father's  Pity. 


303 


Literature. 


Buckland  (A.  R.),  Text  St  udies  for  a  Year,  143 
Clifford  (J.),  The  Gospel  of  Gladness,  17. 
Conn  (J.),  The  Fulness  of  Time,  1. 
Dykes  (J.  0.),  Sermons,  138. 
Fleming  (A.  G.),  Silver  Wings,  26. 
McLeod  (M.  J.),  Heavenly  Harmonies,  99. 
Murray  (W.  H.),  The  Fruits  of  the  Spirit,  397. 
Pierce  (C.  C),  The  Hunger  of  the  Heart  for  Faith,  59. 
Selby  (T.  G.),  The  God  of  the  Frail,  2. 

Spurgeon  (C.  H.),  Metropolitan  Tabernacle  Pulpit,  xvi.  (1870),  No.  941. 
Vaughan  (J.),  Sermoyis  (Brighton  Pulpit),  vii.  (1868),  No.  678. 
Walters  (F.),  in  Sermons  by  Unitarian  Ministers,  53. 
Christian  World  Fulpit,  xxx.  230  (J.  Baillie)  ;  xxxii.  376  (F.  Ferguson) ; 

xxxviii.  188  (D.  Hobbs) ;  li.  376  (E.  Griffith-Jones);  Ixi.  251 

(J.  Ritson). 
Church  Pulpit  Year  Book,  1909,  p.  153. 


304 


The  FATHER'S  Pity. 


Like  as  a  father  pitieth  his  children, 
So  the  Lord  pitieth  them  that  fear  him. 
For  he  knoweth  our  frame ; 

He  remembereth  that  we  are  dust. — Ps.  ciii.  13,  14. 

1.  "  Like  as  a  father."  The  history  of  religion  shows  that  it  has 
not  been  easy  for  men  to  think  of  God  in  that  extremely  simple 
and  human  fashion;  and  yet,  to  Christians,  no  other  way  of 
thinking  appears  so  obvious  or  so  natural.  It  met  us  in  our 
childhood,  grew  into  the  thinking  of  our  youth,  and  has  swayed 
the  conceptions  we  have  formed  of  that  august  and  invincible 
power  that  works  for  righteousness  and  peace  for  evermore.  We 
lisped  it  in  our  earliest  hymns.  It  had  a  place  in  the  first 
prayers  we  offered  at  our  mother's  knee.  It  was  set  out  in  many 
winsome  forms  in  the  Sunday  school;  and  when  we  realized 
something  of  the  joy  of  the  Divine  pardon,  we  felt  more  deeply 
than  ever  the  entire  appropriateness  and  unsurpassed  charm  of 
the  poet's  words.  God  is  like  a  father.  It  saturates  the  Christian 
atmosphere.    It  is  shaping  the  thought  and  the  life  of  the  world. 

And  yet  it  is  a  matter  of  historic  fact  that  men  were  thinking 
and  inquiring  for  ages  before  they  were  able  to  interpret  God  in 
the  terms  of  human  fatherhood.  Groping  after  God,  if  haply 
they  might  find  Him,  they  sought  their  symbols  first  of  all  in  the 
many-leaved  picture  book  of  nature,  and  said,  God  is  like  the  sun, 
shining  in  its  strength,  and  filling  the  world  with  its  radiance. 
The  moon  is  His  symbol  as  it  casts  its  light  on  the  path  of  the 
pilgrim  in  the  night.  "God  is  like  the  rock,"  they  exclaimed; 
"  His  work  is  perfect."  He  abides  amid  the  storms  and  stress  of 
life,  stable  as  the  everlasting  hills. 

Quite  late  in  history  did  men  come  to  the  human  in  their 
quest  for  the  terms  in  which  they  might  express  God  ;  and  when 
they  reached  this  point,  they  seized  at  first  only  upon  the  more 
PS.  xxv.-cxix. — 20 


3o6  THE  FATHER'S  PITY 


arresting  qualities  of  the  animal  in  man,  and  said,  "  God  is  like 
Hercules  "  in  the  invincible  strength  with  which  He  crushes  the 
evils  in  the  world,  and  makes  an  end  of  them.  Later  still,  Plato 
advanced  to  the  suggestion  that  God  was  like  a  "geometer,"  a 
thinker  and  fashioner,  full  of  ideas  and  ideals ;  and,  latest  of  all, 
in  one  of  the  youngest  portions  of  the  Old  Testament,  not  in 
Genesis,  not  in  any  part  of  the  Pentateuch,  but  in  this  wonderful 
and  most  gracious  lyric,  the  103rd  Psalm,  possibly  one  of  the  last 
contributions  of  Hebrew  Psalmody,  the  seer  surpasses  all  the 
great  historical  religions,  and  pictures  God  to  us  as  a  pitiful, 
compassionate,  sin-forgiving,  and  soul-healing  Father,  and  thus 
supplies  the  basis  for  the  most  true,  most  worthy,  and  most 
inspiring  conception  of  God. 

^  There  was  once  a  group  of  friends  standing  at  the  house 
door,  gazing  in  wonder  at  an  eclipse.  It  was  a  cloudless  night ; 
and,  as  they  saw  the  shadow  of  the  earth  gliding  so  punctually 
over  the  face  of  the  brilliant  moon,  a  solemn  emotion  of  awe  fell 
upon  every  mind,  and  in  absolute  silence  they  watched  the 
magnificent  phenomenon.  Everything  connected  with  their  daily 
lives  seemed  for  a  season  to  be  forgotten ;  they  were  citizens  of 
infinitude;  all  their  thoughts  were  swept  into  the  regions  of 
immensity.  But  suddenly  the  silence  was  broken  by  a  cry 
from  the  nursery  where  a  child  had  been  laid  to  sleep.  In  that 
company,  how  soon  you  could  tell  who  was  the  mother;  in  a 
moment  she  had  left  the  scene,  had  rushed  upstairs,  and  was 
clasping  the  baby  in  her  embrace !  What  were  the  wonders  of 
nature  compared  to  the  needs  of  a  suffering  child  ?  More  sacred 
than  the  music  of  the  spheres  was  that  feeble  appeal  for  pity ; 
more  powerful  than  the  sweet  influence  of  the  Pleiades  was  the 
attraction  of  love  which  at  once  absorbed  that  woman's  soul. 
Then  was  she  most  like  God,  not  when  she  was  exalted  into 
amazement  at  the  marvels  of  the  sky,  but  when  she  was  soothing 
pain  and  chasing  fear  by  tenderness  and  pity.^ 

2.  In  depicting  the  milder  and  kindlier  aspect  of  God's 
character  the  Old  Testament  writers  make  pity  the  ground 
quality  on  which  everything  is  based.  With  the  Psalm  writers 
it  is  a  standing  description  of  God  on  this  side  of  His  nature  that 
He  is  "  gracious  and  full  of  compassion."  His  compassion  for  the 
perishable  life  and  oppressed  state  of  Israel  is  expressly  assigned 

1  F.  Walters. 


PSALM  cm.  13,  14 


307 


by  the  prophets  as  His  reason  for  "  redeeming  "  His  people  and 
forgiving  their  rebellions  with  long-suffering  mercy.  When  He 
withdraws  locusts  from  the  wasted  fields  of  Palestine,  it  is  because 
He  pities  His  people's  sufferings.  The  repentant  city  of  Nineveh 
is  spared  because  its  helpless  myriads  touched  in  God's  great 
heart  such  ruth  as  Jonah  had  for  his  withering  gourd.  And  after 
Jerusalem's  fall,  the  patriot-poet  who  mourned  so  exquisitely 
over  its  ruin  finds  the  explanation  of  all  disaster  in  these 
plaintive,  half-reproachful  words,  "  Thou  hast  not  pitied."  It 
reads  as  if  the  Almighty's  long-suffering  patience  with  men,  His 
gracious  kindness  to  His  people.  His  relenting,  even  His  mercy 
in  pardoning  sin,  were  all  felt  by  these  old  Hebrews  to  root 
themselves  in  that  beautiful  sentiment  of  compassion  with  which 
a  Being  so  immense  and  self-contained  in  blessedness  must  look 
down  on  the  fragile  and  sorrowful  creatures  whose  origin,  whose 
habitation,  and  whose  end  are  all  of  them  in  the  dust. 

^  "  Pity  lies  at  the  core  of  all  the  great  religions."  The 
chapters  of  the  Koran,  all  of  them,  begin  with  these  words :  "  In 
the  name  of  God,  the  compassionate,  the  merciful."  The  vast 
religion  of  Buddha  numbers  five  hundred  million  votaries,  and 
pity  is  the  keynote  to  it  all.^ 

3.  The  sense  of  God's  fatherly  compassion  grows  out  of  man's 
deepest  experience.  The  Psalmist  is  face  to  face  with  his  own 
life,  and  with  the  life  of  Israel.  He  looks  back  in  his  history,  and 
counts  up  the  "  benefits  "  he  has  received  from  the  Lord :  forgive- 
ness and  healing,  solace  and  renewal,  quickening  and  uplift.  He 
is  swayed  by  the  spirit  of  praise  and  adoration  and  love ;  and  out 
of  his  own  growing  affection  there  leaps  up  irresistibly  this 
thought  of  God.  It  must  be  so.  The  God  who  meets  his  sin 
with  such  pity  and  pardon,  bears  with  his  errors  and  guilty 
ignorance  so  patiently,  must  have  the  heart  of  a  father.  These 
are  the  gifts  of  love.  They  reveal  wisdom,  intelligence,  adaptation 
of  means  to  an  end,  but  chiefly  they  show  the  same  sort  of  care 
for  the  soul  of  man  as  a  loving  father  shows  for  his  child; 
they  disclose  the  Divine  heart.  God  forgives  as  a  father  does  the 
mistakes  and  follies  and  sins  of  his  son.  He  delivers  from  peril, 
He  crowns  with  loving-kindness  and  tenderness.    He  satisfies 

^  M.  J.  McLeod,  Heavenly  Harmonies  for  Earthly  Living,  99. 


3o8  THE  FATHER'S  PITY 


the  soaring  desires  of  the  spirit ;  He  renews  the  springs  of  life. 
"  Like  as  a  father  pitieth  his  children,  so  the  Lord  pitieth  them 
that  fear  him." 

But  the  most  vital  element  in  the  Psalmist's  experience  is  the 
forgiveness  of  his  sins.  It  is  to  that  he  recurs  again  and  again. 
God  forgives  as  only  a  father-heart  in  its  fullest  flow  of  pity  and 
compassion  can  forgive.  For  it  is  not  easy  to  forgive.  Brothers 
have  been  known  to  pursue  one  another  in  a  spirit  of  retaliation 
for  years,  and  some  fathers  and  mothers  have  shown  hardness  of 
heart  towards  their  own  offspring ;  but  God  forgives  with  a  gener- 
osity and  completeness  which  show  that  no  father  has  a  love  so 
large  as  His. 

Who  is  a  pardoning  God  like  Thee, 
Or  who  has  grace  so  rich  and  free ! 

It  seems  impossible  to  exaggerate  in  describing  it.  Listen  to  the 
singer  as,  with  soul  bursting  with  thankfulness,  he  says,  God  does 
chide — but  not  always;  nor  does  He  keep  His  anger  for  ever. 
Take  your  measuring-glass  and  look  up  into  the  heavens.  Let 
your  gaze  reach  out  to  the  farthest  depths  of  the  infinite  blue, 
soar  and  still  soar,  and  still  you  do  not  reach  the  boundaries  of 
His  forgiving  love :  "  He  hath  not  dealt  with  us  after  our  sins ; 
nor  rewarded  us  according  to  our  iniquities.  For  as  the  heaven  is 
high  above  the  earth,  so  great  is  his  mercy  toward  them  that  fear 
him." 

^  Years  ago  when  death  came  to  me  first  and  took  a  child, 
the  anguish  was  great.  Watching  her  while  she  lay  dying,  I 
learnt  for  the  first  time  what  is  meant  by  the  words,  "  Like  as  a 
father  pitieth  his  children."  Only  so  could  I  be  taught  the  pity 
of  God.  And  I  learnt  too,  at  the  same  time,  what  God  must  feel 
at  the  loss  of  His  children.  What  are  all  these  passionate 
affections  but  parables  of  Divine  things  ?  Shall  God  suffer  and 
not  we  ?  ^ 

My  little  Son,  who  look'd  from  thoughtful  eyes 
And  moved  and  spoke  in  quiet  grown-up  wise, 
Having  my  law  the  seventh  time  disobey 'd, 
I  struck  him,  and  dismiss'd 
With  hard  words  and  unkiss'd, 
His  Mother,  who  was  patient,  being  dead. 

*  Life  of  R.  W.  Bale,  of  Birmingham,  621. 


PSALM  cm.  13,  14 


309 


Then,  fearing  lest  his  grief  should  hinder  sleep, 

I  visited  his  bed, 

But  found  him  slumbering  deep, 

With  darken'd  eyelids,  and  their  lashes  yet 

From  his  late  sobbing  wet. 

And  I,  with  moan. 

Kissing  away  his  tears,  left  others  of  my  own; 

For  on  a  table  drawn  beside  his  head, 

He  had  put,  within  his  reach, 

A  box  of  counters,  and  a  red-vein'd  stone, 

A  piece  of  glass  abraded  by  the  beach 

And  six  or  seven  shells, 

A  bottle  with  bluebells 

And  two  French  copper  coins,  ranged  there  with  careful  art, 

To  comfort  his  sad  heart. 

So  when  that  night  I  pray'd 

To  God,  I  wept,  and  said : 

Ah,  when  at  last  we  lie  with  tranced  breath, 

Not  vexing  Thee  in  death. 

And  Thou  rememberest  of  what  toys 

We  made  our  joys. 

How  weakly  understood. 

Thy  great  commanded  good, 

Then,  fatherly  not  less 

Than  I  whom  Thou  hast  moulded  from  the  clay, 

Thoult  leave  Thy  wrath,  and  say, 

"  I  will  be  sorry  for  their  childishness."  ^ 

4.  The  New  Testament  discloses  the  fact  that  the  pity  of  God 
is  the  sympathy  of  One  who  associates  Himself  with  us  and  under- 
takes for  us.  When  we  speak  of  the  Incarnation  we  think  of  the 
Divine  in  the  human.  But  there  is  another  side  to  that  great 
truth.  There  is  the  human  in  the  Divine — what  Eobertson  of 
Brighton  used  to  call  the  humanity  of  Deity,  and  what  the  late 
Principal  Edwards  of  Bala  called  "  the  humanity  of  God."  That 
is  something  which  makes  Him  one  with  us,  so  that  He  identifies 
Himself  with  us,  and,  in  a  word,  pities  us.  Now  nobody  resents 
that  kind  of  pity,  the  pity  of  a  genuine  sympathy,  which  makes  a 
man  suffer  because  you  suff'er  and  compels  him  so  to  identify 
himself  with  you  as  to  enter  into  your  experience.  That  comes 
to  you  like  balm ;  there  is  healing  in  it.    It  stands  by  your 

^  Coventry  Patmore,  The  Unknown  Eros. 


3IO  THE  FATHER'S  PITY  i 

side ;  it  puts  its  arms  around  you,  so  to  speak,  and  in  quivering 
tones  says :  "  My  brother,  my  sister,  my  child,  this  misfortune 
touches  us  both,  for  you  are  bone  of  my  bone,  and  flesh  of  my 
flesh.  Because  you  suffer  I  must  suffer.  In  the  name  of  our  common 
humanity,  in  the  name  of  God,  let  us  try  to  help  each  other." 
That  is  pity.   That  is  the  pity  of  God ;  for  that  is  the  pity  of  love. 

What  is  the  meaning  of  Gethsemane  and  the  cross  but  this, 
that  the  Son  of  God  by  virtue  of  His  identification  with  us  in  His 
humanity  entered  sympathetically  into  the  sin  and  suffering  of 
the  world  ?  Not  that  He  shared  our  sin  by  actual  transgression, 
for  He  knew  no  sin ;  but  as  a  father  shares  the  sin  and  shame  and 
suffering  of  his  child,  so  the  Lord  J esus  shared  our  sin  and  shame 
and  suffering.  "  Himself  bare  our  sins  in  his  own  body  on  the 
tree."  "  He  was  wounded  for  our  transgressions,  he  was  bruised 
for  our  iniquities."  He  who  knew  no  sin  "  was  made  sin  for  us." 
How  otherwise  could  He  have  made  atonement  for  us  ?  And 
what  is  the  teaching  of  the  parable  of  the  Prodigal  Son  in  this 
regard  ?  How  did  the  father  pity  his  wandering  boy  ?  He 
yearned  for  him  when  he  was  away  in  the  far  country ;  he  knew 
well  what  it  all  meant — the  degradation,  the  undying  stain,  the 
suffering.  And  for  every  pang  in  the  heart  of  the  son  there  was 
an  answering  pang  in  the  heart  of  the  father.  And  how  did  the 
pity  express  itself  ?  While  the  son  was  yet  a  great  way  off  the 
father  saw  him,  and  had  compassion  on  him,  and  ran  to  meet  him. 
Ah !  pity  does  not  think  of  its  dignity.  The  pity  of  some  people 
could  never  get  beyond  a  walk;  it  is  too  often  on  stilts.  The 
father's  pity  made  him  run ;  he  ran  and  fell  on  his  neck  and  kissed 
him.  And  that  is  the  pity  of  God ;  that  is  how  it  is  unfolded  in 
the  story  of  redemption. 

^  A  chord  which  has  been  once  set  in  unison  with  another 
vibrates  (they  say)  when  its  fellow  is  sharply  struck.  God  has  set 
His  heart  through  human  suffering  into  perpetual  concord  with 
human  hearts.  Strike  them,  and  the  heart  of  God  quivers  for 
fellowship.  If  this  is  compassion,  it  is  so  in  a  more  literal  sense 
than  when  we  use  the  word  as  a  mere  synonym  for  pity.  It  is 
sympathy,  in  the  Greek  and  New  Testament  sense  ;  it  is,  as  our  ver- 
sion has  it,  being  "  touched"  with  the  same  feeling.  It  is  the  remem- 
brance of  His  own  human  past  which  stirs  within  the  soul  of  Christ, 
when,  now,  from  His  high  seat,  He  sees  what  mortal  men  endure.^ 

» J.  0.  Dykes. 


PSALM  cm.  13,  14 


311 


5.  The  Psalmist  says  that  man's  weakness  makes  a  sure 
appeal  to  the  Father's  heart.  "  For  he  knoweth  our  frame ;  he 
remembereth  that  we  are  dust."  Dust  is  a  synonym  for  frailty. 
While  the  mountains  stand  fast  for  generations,  the  dust  into 
which  they  are  slowly  worn  has  no  abiding  place.  The  winds 
toss  it,  carrying  its  unresisting  particles  whithersoever  they  will. 
And  the  stuff  out  of  which  we  are  fashioned  is  just  as  unstable 
and  never  at  one  stay.  Our  lives  are  of  slenderer  fibre  than 
unspun  silk,  brittle  as  threads  of  fine-drawn  glass,  breath-break- 
able as  the  texture  that  holds  together  only  in  a  vacuum.  The 
Psalmist  goes  on  to  speak  of  death,  reminding  us  that  man  is  like 
a  flower  of  the  field  which,  untended  by  human  care,  unscreened 
by  human  device,  unwarmed  by  human  art,  shrivels  at  the  first 
sign  of  change  and  the  first  moan  of  desert  wind,  and  dies 
neglected  and  forlorn.  Through  the  entire  round  of  his  days 
he  is  ever  matching  and  measuring  his  puny  capacities  against 
the  strong.  Death,  which  draws  the  curtain  over  his  cold,  inert, 
baffled  clay,  is  but  the  last  phase  in  that  ever-recurring  spectacle 
of  impotence.  And  yet  man  draws  the  Almighty  God  down  to 
his  help ;  and,  marvellous  to  say,  man  draws  God  by  reason  of  his 
very  frailty.  Of  the  sum  of  that  human  life  over  which  He  bends 
I  am  but  a  thousand-millionth  part,  and  yet  "  the  Lord  thinketh 
upon  me,"  who  "  am  poor  and  needy  " — thinketh  of  me  the  more 
closely  for  that  very  reason. 

^  In  his  essay  on  "  The  Sublime  and  Beautiful,"  Burke  points 
out  the  fact  that  we  always  associate  physical  smallness  with  the 
idea  of  beauty,  and  he  supports  his  rule  by  reminding  us  Miat  in 
every  known  language  terms  of  endearment  are  diminutives.  Is 
not  the  reason  for  this  common  note  in  the  taste  and  speech  of 
mankind  that  the  hearts  of  the  strong  and  the  chivalrous  are 
captured  by  the  very  weakness  which  solicits  defence  ?  When  we 
are  called  upon  to  play  the  part  of  providence  to  the  helpless  we 
experience  a  mysterious  satisfaction  which  influences  our  aesthetic 
judgment,  and  the  helpless  grow  beautiful  in  our  eyes.  And  does 
not  this  peculiarity  in  human  nature  give  us  the  clue  to  a  mystery 
in  the  heart  of  God  ?  When  He  made  man  He  put  Divine  qualities 
into  a  slender  framework,  filled  up  with  delicate  clay,  because 
to  such  beings  the  deepest  secret  of  His  tenderness  could  be 
spoken.^ 

1  T.  G.  Selby, 


312 


THE  FATHER'S  PITY 


^  Will  you  say  to  a  mother,  Why  do  you  waste  such  love  on 
that  poor  child  ?  Do  you  not  see  that  he  is  a  cripple,  has 
curvature  of  the  spine,  always  will  be  a  cripple  ?  See  the  little 
fellow  creeping  on  his  hands  and  knees  !  The  doctor  says  that 
he  can  never  be  strong;  always  will  be  a  source  of  anxiety  to 
you ;  most  likely  never  will  be  able  to  walk.  Why  worry  so  over 
him  ?  What  good  will  he  ever  be  ?  Ah,  if  you  spoke  thus,  she 
would  give  you  a  look  that  would  shrivel  you. 

My  silent  boy,  I  hold  thee  to  my  breast, 

Just  as  I  did  when  thou  wast  newly  born. 
It  may  be  sinful,  but  I  love  thee  best, 

And  kiss  thy  lips  the  longest  night  and  morn. 
Oh,  thou  art  dear  to  me  beyond  all  others, 

And  when  I  breathe  my  trust  and  bend  my  knee 
For  blessing  on  thy  sisters  and  thy  brothers, 

God  seems  the  nighest  when  I  pray  for  thee.^ 

6.  God's  intimate  knowledge  of  our  weakness  is  the  sure 
pledge  of  tender  parental  treatment.  It  is  certain  that  a  very 
great  part  of  the  harshness  of  judgment  which  passes  among  men 
is  the  result  of  imperfect  knowledge.  You  do  not  know  the  man 
you  are  speaking  about ;  you  do  not  know  the  natural  infirmities, 
the  bodily  hindrances,  the  constitutional  causes  which  affect  the 
person  whom  you  are  blaming.  You  cannot  take  into  your 
calculation  all  the  circumstances,  all  the  pressure,  all  the  tempta- 
tion. You  cannot  read  his  motives,  you  cannot  dip  into  the  secret 
processes  going  on  in  that  man's  mind.  If  you  could  see  all  this, 
your  feelings  would  be  very  different,  and  your  sentiments  would 
be  reversed. 

Now,  of  all  upon  earth,  a  parent  can  best  estimate  these 
things  in  his  own  child.  Has  he  not  watched  him  from  the  first 
passages  of  his  dawning  life  ?  Has  he  not  seen  the  moulding  of 
his  frame  ?  Has  he  not  become  intimate  with  the  secret  frame- 
work of  his  being  ?  Can  he  not  take  a  more  comprehensive  view 
of  him  than  any  other  man  can  ?  And  this  pity  flowing  from 
parental  knowledge  is  the  shadow  of  that  love  of  God.  He  sees 
what  no  other  eye  sees,  and  His  calculations  include  all  the 
extenuating  circumstances — the  health,  the  position,  the  conflict, 
the  effort,  the  struggle,  the  sorrow,  the  penitence.    "  He  knows  " 

*  M.  J.  McLeod,  Heavenly  Harmonies  for  Earthly  Living,  110. 


PSALM  cm.  13,  14 


313 


and — blessed  be  God  for  the  kind  word,  a  word  very  rarely 
known  to  us — "  He  remembers."  And  so  pity  is  the  child  of 
knowledge.  "  Like  as  a  father  pitieth  his  children,  so  the  Lord 
pitieth  them  that  fear  him.  For  he  knoweth  our  frame ;  he 
remembereth  that  we  are  dust." 

Not  as  one  blind  and  deaf  to  our  beseeching, 

Neither  forgetful  that  we  are  but  dust, 
Not  as  from  heavens  too  high  for  our  upreaching. 

Coldly  sublime,  intolerably  just : — 

Nay  but  Thou  knewest  us,  Lord  Christ  Thou  knowest, 
Well  Thou  rememberest  our  feeble  frame. 

Thou  canst  conceive  our  highest  and  our  lowest, 
Pulses  of  nobleness  and  aches  of  shame. 

Therefore  have  pity! — not  that  we  accuse  Thee, 

Curse  Thee  and  die  and  charge  Thee  with  our  woe; 

Not  thro'  Thy  fault,  0  Holy  One,  we  lose  Thee, 
Nay,  but  our  own, — yet  hast  Thou  made  us  so! 

Then  tho'  our  foul  and  limitless  transgression 
Grows  with  our  growing,  with  our  breath  began, 

Eaise  Thou  the  arms  of  endless  intercession. 
Jesus,  divinest  when  Thou  most  art  man !  ^ 

7,  The  Psalmist  based  the  pity  of  our  Heavenly  Father  on  His 
special  knowledge  of  our  frame — such  knowledge  as  only  the 
Framer  of  it  can  possess.  But  to  know  man's  frame,  to  know 
what  is  in  man,  even  to  search  and  try  with  Divine  inspection  the 
heart  and  spirit  of  a  man,  is  after  all  something  less  intimate  and 
perfect  than  to  be  a  man.  To  learn  a  child's  lessons,  feel  a  youth's 
passions,  think  a  man's  thoughts ;  to  be  actually  tempted  to  evil 
as  men  are  tempted,  and  find  out  by  trial  how  hard  it  is  for  them 
to  be  good ;  to  undergo  the  moral  probation  and  discipline  peculiar 
to  a  human  creature,  impossible  to  the  Creator ;  this  must  give — 
or,  if  we  are  to  think  about  the  subject  at  all,  it  must  be  supposed 
by  us  to  have  given — to  the  Son  of  God  a  fresh  acquaintance  with 
human  experience,  of  quite  another  sort  from  the  omniscience  of 
the  creating  Father.    At  all  events,  who  can  help  feeling  this, 

1  F.  W.  H.  Myers,  Saint  Paul. 


314  THE  FATHER'S  PITY 


that,  if  it  is  possible  for  any  one  to  know  us,  understand  us,  and 
do  us  justice,  J esus  Christ  is  that  One ;  since,  as  our  Maker,  He 
both  knows  what  He  made  us  fit  to  be  and  to  do  and,  as  our 
Fellow-Man,  has  learned  through  what  hindrances  and  temptations 
we  have  become  what  we  are  ? 

^  An  obelisk,  originally  brought  from  Egypt,  stands  in  the 
piazza  of  St.  Peter's  at  Eome.  It  was  put  into  its  present 
position  in  the  sixteenth  century.  It  weighs  a  little  short  of  a 
million  pounds,  and  required  the  strength  of  eight  hundred  men, 
one  hundred  and  fifty  horses,  and  forty-six  cranes,  to  lift  it  on  to 
its  pedestal.  The  crowds  who  witnessed  the  feat  were  forbidden 
to  speak  under  pain  of  death.  As  the  ropes  were  tugged  by  hosts 
of  workmen,  and  the  huge  obelisk  slowly  reared  itself  like  a 
waking  giant,  the  movement  suddenly  stopped  and  the  ropes 
threatened  to  give  way.  The  huge  mass  was  about  to  fall 
crashing  upon  the  pavement.  An  old  sailor  in  the  crowd,  familiar 
with  the  humours  of  ropes  and  the  methods  of  treating  them, 
broke  the  silence  and  cried,  "  Pour  water  on  the  ropes ! "  The 
advice  was  quickly  followed,  the  ropes  tightened,  and  the  obelisk 
slowly  rose  again  and  settled  securely  upon  its  base.  In  our 
past  life  how  often  have  strain,  tension,  and  peril  come  to  us ! 
The  ties  by  which  we  were  knit  to  goodness,  to  truth,  to  purity, 
to  faith,  were  sorely  tested,  and  seemed  ready  to  snap  and  plunge 
us  into  ruin.  Some  temptation  arose  out  of  all  proportion  to 
the  staying  power  of  our  trust  in  God,  some  shock  fraught  with 
impending  disaster  to  the  character,  some  partial  alienation  from 
right  paths  threatening  to  strand  our  lives  in  uselessness.  But 
the  eye  of  infinite  wisdom  was  watching,  and  God  remembered 
the  weakness  of  the  flesh.  From  within  the  unseen  there  came 
a  voice  that  saved  us,  and  the  peril  was  overpast.  The  strain 
eased  off,  character  strengthened  itself  to  the  emergency,  and  we 
were  kept  in  the  plane  of  our  providential  lot.  And  through 
this  wise,  watchful  pity  of  our  infirmities  we  come  to  find  our- 
selves with  a  place  in  the  living  temple,  monuments  of  the 
gentleness,  the  sympathy,  and  the  upholding  power  of  the  God 
who  pities  the  frail.  In  the  moments  which  show  most  our 
weakness  the  Lord  remembers  that  we  are  but  dust,  and  fortifies 
us  against  the  strains  and  hazards  which  belong  to  our  earthly 
course.^ 

8.  Who  are  they  that  experience  this  pity  of  God  ?  What 
does  the  text  say  ?    "  Like  as  a  father  pitieth  his  children,  so  the 
1  T.  G.  Selby,  The  God  of  the  Frail,  14. 


i 


PSALM  cm.  13,  14 


315 


Lord  pitieth  them  that  fear  him."  The  same  expression  occurs 
in  the  eleventh  verse :  "  As  the  heaven  is  high  above  the  earth, 
so  great  is  his  mercy  toward  them  that  fear  him."  And  again 
in  the  seventeenth  verse :  "  The  mercy  of  the  Lord  is  from 
everlasting  to  everlasting  upon  them  that  fear  him."  Now,  let 
us  not  imagine  for  a  moment  that  God  does  not  yearn  with 
compassion  over  men  who  are  utterly  reckless,  men  who  are 
breaking  through  God's  law,  and  treading  the  path  that  leadeth 
to  destruction.  God  pities  them;  but,  then,  observe,  they  are 
indifferent  to  Him ;  and  if  we  are  indifferent  to  any  one,  we  do 
not  care  for  that  one's  pity,  we  have  no  wish  for  his  compassion. 
God's  compassion  goes  forth  upon  all  men,  but  all  men  cannot 
receive  it,  and  do  not  receive  it.  It  is  not  the  idea  of  terror 
that  is  conveyed  by  this  word  "  fear."  We  do  not  crave  mercy 
from  a  tyrant;  we  demand  justice  from  him.  If  one  might 
translate  this  word  "  fear "  one  should  do  so  by  two  words — 
"reverential  love."  We  can  receive  real  sympathy  only  from 
those  we  love  with  reverence.  When  we  are  bearing  a  great 
trial,  when  we  are  going  through  our  testing  time,  when  we  are 
bowing  under  a  heavy  sorrow,  who  are  the  men  and  women  from 
whom  we  seek  sympathy  or  pity  ?  It  may  be  we  seek  for  the 
companionship  of  but  one — only  one — for  whom  our  love  is  deep 
and  reverent. 

^  Bunyan  in  his  long  treatise  On  the  Fear  of  God  deals 
with  the  matter  of  "right  fear"  very  fully.  "Take  heed,"  he 
says  in  that  treatise,  "  of  hardening  thy  heart  at  any  time  against 
convictions  of  judgments.  I  bid  you  before  to  beware  of  a  hard 
heart,  now  I  bid  you  beware  of  hardening  your  soft  heart.  The 
fear  of  the  Lord  is  the  pulse  of  the  soul.  Pulses  that  beat  are 
the  best  signs  of  life;  but  the  worst  show  that  life  is  present. 
Intermitting  pulses  are  dangerous.  David  and  Peter  had  an 
intermitting  pulse  in  reference  to  this  fear."  Christian  is  no 
coward,  and  the  adjective  right  is  emphatic  when  he  speaks  of 
right  fear.  The  word  fear  has  two  senses,  according  as  it  relates 
to  dangerous  or  to  sublime  things.  In  the  one  connexion  it  is  a 
sense  of  danger ;  in  the  other  it  is  the  faculty  of  reverence,  the 
habit  of  wonder,  the  continued  power  of  awe  and  admiration. 
Christian's  analysis  of  it  includes  both  these  senses.  (1)  It  rises 
in  the  conviction  of  sin — not  (it  will  be  observed)  in  the  approach 
of  punishment,  but  in  the  horror  of  sin  itself,  as  a  thing  to  be 
abhorred  apart  from  its  consequences.    (2)  It  leads  to  a  laying 


3i6  THE  FATHER'S  PITY 


hold  on  Christ  for  salvation — in  which  the  sense  of  danger  and 
the  faculty  of  reverence  are  combined.  (3)  It  begets  in  the  soul  a 
great  reverence  for  God.^ 

•|f  Among  the  children  of  God,  while  there  is  always  that 
fearful  and  bowed  apprehension  of  His  majesty,  and  that  sacred 
dread  of  all  offence  to  Him,  which  is  called  the  Fear  of  God,  yet 
of  real  and  essential  fear  there  is  not  any,  but  clinging  of  con- 
fidence to  Him  as  their  Kock,  Fortress,  and  Deliverer;  and 
perfect  love,  and  casting  out  of  fear ;  so  that  it  is  not  possible 
that,  while  the  mind  is  rightly  bent  on  Him,  there  should  be 
dread  of  anything  either  earthly  or  supernatural ;  and  the  more 
dreadful  seems  the  height  of  His  majesty,  the  less  fear  they  feel 
that  dwell  in  the  shadow  of  it  ("  Of  whom  shall  I  be  afraid  "), 
so  that  they  are  as  David  was,  devoted  to  His  fear  " ;  whereas, 
on  the  other  hand,  those  who,  if  they  may  help  it,  never  conceive 
of  God,  but  thrust  away  all  thought  and  memory  of  Him,  and  in 
His  real  terribleness  and  omnipresence  fear  Him  not  nor  know 
Him,  yet  are  by  real,  acute,  piercing,  and  ignoble  fear,  haunted 
for  evermore.2 

1  John  Kelman,  The  Road,  ii.  162. 

2  Kuskin,  Modern  Painters j  ii.  ch.  xiv.  ( Works,  iv.  199). 


The  Day's  Work. 


/ 


317 


Literature. 


Bain  (J.  A.  K.),  For  Heart  and  Life,  357. 

BoA'd  (A.  K.  H.),  TJie  Graver  Thoughts  of  a  Country  Parson,  ii,  144. 

Brooks  (P.),  Seeking  Life,  331. 

Brown  (J.  B.),  The  Christian  Policy  of  Life,  108. 

Clarke  (J.  E.),  Common-Life  Sermons,  94, 

Dewhurst  (F.  E.),  The  Investment  of  Truth,  157. 

Dix  (M.),  Christ  at  the  Door  of  the  Heart,  65. 

Hood  (P.)j  Bark  Sayings  on  a  Harp,  69. 

Hunter  (J.),  De  Profundis  Clamavi,  227. 

Lambert  (J.  C),  The  Christian  Workman,  1. 

Newman  (J.  H.),  Sermons  on  Subjects  of  the  Day,  395. 

Prothero  (R.  E.),  The  Psalms  in  Human  Life,  315. 

Smith  (G.  A.),  The  Forgiveness  of  Sins,  89. 

Christian  World  Pulpit,  xli.  56  (G.  A.  Smith)  ;  xlii.  8  (T.  Young) ;  Ixx. 

139  (H.  M'Gahie)  ;  Ixxvii.  309  (H.  S.  Holland). 
Church  of  England  Pulpit,  xlix.  309  (J.   White);   lix.   197  (B.  S. 

Tupholme). 
Church  Times,  May  6,  1910  (II.  S.  Holland). 
Literary  Churchman,  xxxii.  316  (J.  L.  Spencer). 


3i8 


The  DAY'S  Work. 


Man  goeth  forth  unto  his  work 

And  to  his  labour  until  the  evening.— Ps.  civ.  23. 

The  psalm  from  which  the  text  is  taken  is  one  of  the  most  com- 
plete and  impressive  pictures  of  the  universe  to  be  found  in 
ancient  literature,  and  it  breathes  the  very  spirit  of  the  Hebrew 
race.  It  has  been  called  the  Psalm  of  the  Cosmos.  It  moves 
through  all  creation,  and  begins  and  ends  with  praise.  Like  all 
the  highest  reaches  of  the  human  imagination,  it  lays  hold  of  the 
inner  and  deeper  truth  of  things,  and  suggests  much  more  than 
literary  description  can  convey.  He  was  not  a  man  of  knowledge 
in  the  modern  sense,  this  Hebrew  poet,  although  the  wide  sweep 
of  his  thought  seems  to  speak  of  some  contact  with  foreign 
culture ;  but  he  was  at  home  in  that  knowledge  of  God  which  is 
Eternal  Life.  No  careful  reader  of  the  psalm  will  fail  to  see  that 
it  follows  mainly  the  order  and  sequence  of  the  story  of  the 
beginnings  of  things  with  which  our  Bible  opens — a  story  which 
in  its  groupings  of  the  creative  action  into  progressive  stages 
dimly  anticipates  our  modern  idea  of  development :  yet  the  psalm 
is  no  mere  copy  of  that  story.  The  story  of  Genesis  is  the  record 
of  a  past  and  finished  creation :  the  psalm  is  a  picture  of  a  con- 
tinuous, ever-proceeding  creation — a  kind  of  prophecy  of  the 
genesis  of  science.  All  the  work  of  the  ancient  record  we  see 
going  on  before  our  eyes :  the  wondrous  week  of  Divine  activity 
is  every  week,  and  its  six  great  days  are  repeated  in  all  the  days. 
In  the  psalm,  as  in  the  Book  of  Genesis,  we  see  life  moving  on  in 
the  same  ordered  and  stately  way  to  the  same  goal ;  rising  up  in 
slow  and  steady  grandeur  to  man,  and  in  man  reaching  its  summit 
and  crown.  The  going  forth  of  man  is  the  highest  point  in  the 
vast,  ascending  movement — the  end  or  goal  of  life  on  its  material 
side.    In  this  psalm,  until  we  reach  this  verse,  God  is  represented 

as  working  alone,  causing  the  grass  to  grow  and  giving  to  the 

319 


320 


THE  DAY'S  WORK 


wild  beasts  their  food ;  but  man  goeth  forth — goeth  forth  a  self- 
conscious,  self-acting  being,  a  distinct  person,  a  sovereign  soul 
with  power  to  shape  the  course  of  his  own  life  and  activity. 
And  this  going  forth  of  man  is  not  only  the  summing-up  and  end 
of  a  creation,  but  the  beginning  of  a  new  creation.  However 
closely  he  may  be  allied  to  what  is  beneath  him,  he  belongs  to 
another  order.  Because  he  thinks  and  wills  and  loves,  he  is 
kindred  to  the  Infinite  Mind  and  Will  and  Heart — kindred  to 
God ;  not  only  a  creature  formed  and  sustained  by  the  Creator's 
power,  but  a  son  of  God,  and  therefore  more  to  God  than  vast 
worlds  and  blazing  suns. 

^  In  the  Psalms,  Alexander  von  Humboldt  recognized  an 
epitome  of  scientific  progress,  a  summary  of  the  laws  which 
govern  the  universe.  "A  single  Psalm,  the  104th,"  he  writes, 
"  may  be  said  to  present  a  picture  of  the  entire  Cosmos.  We  are 
astonished  to  see,  within  the  compass  of  a  poem  of  such  small 
dimension,  the  universe,  the  heavens  and  the  earth,  thus  drawn 
with  a  few  grand  strokes."  ^ 

.  ^  In  the  104th  Psalm  the  inspired  poet  gives  us  a  magnificent 
picture  of  the  movement  and  march  of  a  living  world.  The 
clouds  roll  on  like  the  swift  chariots  of  God;  the  winds  are 
winged  creatures ;  the  springs  of  water  run  among  the  hills ;  the 
grass  is  growing,  the  sap  circling  through  the  cedars,  the  birds 
building  their  nests  among  the  branches;  the  moon  keeps  her 
seasons;  the  sun  rises  and  sets,  the  beasts  of  the  forest  creep 
forth  in  search  of  their  food ;  the  ships  are  sailing  upon  the  great 
and  wide  sea.  And  of  man,  set  in  the  midst  of  this  vast,  busy 
scene,  the  Psalmist  says,  "  Man  goeth  forth  unto  his  work  and  to 
his  labour  until  the  evening."  There  is  a  beauty  and  pathos  in 
these  words  which  makes  them  smite  upon  the  heart  like  the 
fingers  of  a  skilled  player  upon  his  instrument,  a  beauty  and 
pathos  which  is  due  essentially  to  their  truthfulness  to  human 
experience,  turning  them,  all  simple  as  they  are,  into  the  solemn 
refrain  of  the  Psalm  of  Life.^ 

^  R.  E.  Prothero,  The  Psalms  in  Human  Life,  315. 
J.  C.  Lambert,  The  Christian  Workma^i,  18. 


PSALM  CIV.  23 


321 


I. 

Work  as  a  Law  of  Man's  Life. 

1.  To  the  vast  majority  of  men  and  women  work  is  a  law,  first 
of  all,  in  the  sense  that  it  is  a  positive  necessity  of  their  daily 
existence.  We  must  eat  to  live,  and  we  must  work  to  eat ;  that 
is  what  the  law  comes  to  in  its  ultimate  physical  form. 

^  In  one  of  his  poems  Arthur  Hugh  Clough  gives  us  a  realistic 
picture  of  morning  in  the  city : — 

Labourers  settling 
Slowly  to  work,  in  their  limbs   the  lingering  sweetness  of 
slumber ; 

Humble  market-carts  coming  in,  bringing  in  not  only 
Flowers,  fruit,  farm-store,  but  sounds  and  sights  of  the  country 
Dwelling  yet  on  the  sense  of  the  dreamy  drivers;  soon  after, 
Half-awake  servant-maids  unfastening  drowsy  shutters 
Up  at  the  windows,  or  down  letting  in  the  air  by  the  doorway. 

No  early  stroller  through  the  streets  has  failed  to  observe  with 
interest  this  awaking  of  a  great  city  from  its  slumbers,  this  re- 
application  of  itself  to  all  its  manifold  tasks  and  toils.  And  if  he 
seeks  an  explanation  of  it  all,  the  reason  at  bottom  undoubtedly 
is  that  in  no  other  way  than  by  arising  and  working  can  human 
beings  earn  their  daily  bread.  A  little  further  on  in  Clough's 
poem,  we  get  a  glimpse  of  the  secret  spring  which  drives  the  huge 
machine,  as  we  read  of  the 

Little  child  bringing  breakfast  to  "father,"  that  sits  on  the 
timber 

!  There  by  the  scafifolding;  see,  she  waits  for  the  can  beside 
him.^ 

2.  But  it  is  not  merely  in  this  lower  sense  that  work  must  be 
conceived  of  as  the  universal  law  of  human  life,  a  sense  determined 
by  the  relations  in  which  we  stand  to  the  forces  of  Nature  on  the 
one  hand,  and  the  social  order  on  the  other.  Work  is  the  proof 
that  man  offers  of  his  manhood.  This  is  his  law  of  relationship 
to  the  complex  universe.  He  works.  He  creates  a  world  for 
himself.  He  makes  his  own  environment.  He  does  not  merely 
accept  from  Nature  his  range  of  opportunity.    He  does  not  merely 

^  J.  C.  Lambert. 

PS.  XXV.-CXIX. — 21 


322 


THE  DAY'S  WORK 


find  her  useful  for  his  purposes,  and  rest  satisfied  with  the  food  he 
can  capture  from  her,  or  the  shelter  that  she  suggests.  He  sets 
to  work  to  bring  about  what  he  will  require.  He  takes  up  what 
she  gives  him,  and  out  of  its  materials  he  contrives,  fashions, 
invents,  improves,  thinks,  reasons,  imagines,  and  toils  until  he  has 
brought  into  existence  a  whole  creation  of  things  that  were  not 
there  before.  His  life  is  his  own  in  the  sense  that  his  head  and 
hands  and  heart  have  produced  it.  It  could  not  come  into  ex- 
istence but  by  the  sweat  of  his  brow.  And  as  he  began,  so  he 
continues.  He  is  ever  at  work.  He  is  ever  bettering,  correcting, 
enlarging.  Ever  a  worker!  Ever  a  creator!  Ever  a  builder! 
Ever  labouring  to  win  a  fuller  result !  Ever  sowing  in  tears  that 
he  may  reap  in  joy  !  Ever  hoping  to  wring  a  richer  spoil  out  of 
the  rugged  soil !  Ever  dreaming  of  a  finer  reward,  ever  foreseeing 
a  better  day ;  ever  spending  and  being  spent ;  ever  giving  himself 
away  for  a  vision  still  denied  him,  of  a  hope  still  deferred  1  Ever 
on  his  pilgrim  way,  with  his  eyes  set  on  far  horizons  !  Ever  war- 
ring with  a  stubborn  earth  which  must  be  purged  of  thorn  or 
thistle  in  order  to  correspond  with  his  strong  desire !  So  man  down 
all  the  ages,  amid  the  awful  silence  of  a  nature  that  waits  around 
him  in  expectation,  "  goeth  forth  to  his  work  and  to  his  labour." 

^  It  has  been  well  said — said  by  a  poet — that  labour  is  at  once 
the  symbol  of  man's  punishment  and  the  secret  of  man's  happiness. 
And  it  has  been  well  said  too  that  the  gospel  does  not  abolish 
labour,  but  gives  it  a  new  and  nobler  aspect.  "The  gospel 
abolishes  labour  much  in  the  same  way  as  it  abolished  death :  it 
leaves  the  thing,  but  it  changes  its  nature."  ^ 

^  There  are  three  things  to  which  a  man  is  born — labour,  and 
sorrow,  and  joy.  Each  of  these  three  things  has  its  baseness  and 
its  nobleness.  There  is  base  labour,  and  noble  labour.  There  is 
base  sorrow,  and  noble  sorrow.  There  is  base  joy,  and  noble  joy. 
But  you  must  not  think  to  avoid  the  corruption  of  these  things 
by  doing  without  the  things  themselves.  Nor  can  any  life  be 
right  that  has  not  all  three.  Labour  without  joy  is  base.  Labour 
without  sorrow  is  base.  Sorrow  without  labour  is  base.  Joy 
without  labour  is  base.^ 

^  When  Charles  Lamb  was  released  for  life  from  his  daily 
drudgery  of  desk-work  at  the  India  Office,  he  felt  himself  the 

*  A.  K.  H.  Boyd,  The  Gfraver  Thoughts  of  a  Country  Parson^  ii.  148. 

*  Ruskin,  Time  and  Tide,  v.  §  21. 


PSALM  CIV.  23 


323 


happiest  of  men.  "  I  would  not  go  back  to  my  prison,"  he  said  to 
a  friend,  "  ten  years  longer,  for  ten  thousand  pounds."  He  also 
wrote  in  the  same  ecstatic  mood  to  Bernard  Barton :  "  I  have 
scarce  steadiness  of  head  to  compose  a  letter,"  he  said;  "I  am 
free  !  free  as  air  !  I  will  live  another  fifty  years.  Would  I  could 
sell  you  some  of  my  leisure !  Positively  the  best  thing  a  man  can 
do  is— nothing;  and  next  to  that,  perhaps  good  works."  Two 
years — two  long  and  tedious  years — passed  ;  aud  Charles  Lamb's 
feelings  had  undergone  an  entire  change.  He  now  discovered  that 
;  official,  even  humdrum  work — "the  daily  round,  the  common 
.  task  " — had  been  good  for  him,  though  he  knew  it  not.  Time  had 
formerly  been  his  friend ;  it  had  now  become  his  enemy.  To 
Bernard  Barton  he  again  wrote :  "  I  assure  you,  no  work  is  worse 
than  overwork ;  the  mind  preys  on  itself — the  most  unwholesome 
I  of  food.  I  have  ceased  to  care  for  almost  anything.  .  .  .  Never 
did  the  waters  of  heaven  pour  down  upon  a  forlorner  head.  What 
I  can  do,  and  overdo,  is  to  walk.  I  am  a  sanguinary  murderer  of 
time.    But  the  oracle  is  silent."  ^ 

3.  Work,  then,  is  the  significance  of  our  manhood.  We  are 
I  those  who  present  themselves  to  the  earth  in  the  eye  of  God  as 
i  workers.  We  create  a  world  of  our  own — the  world  of  human 
1  society.  We  build  a  city,  we  organize  a  fellowship,  we  produce  a 
wealth,  which  were  not  there  until  we  called  them  into  existence 
out  of  the  resources  and  materials  supplied  us  by  God  in  nature. 
And  every  one  contributes  to  this  work,  every  one  is  a  worker, 
who  spends  a  continuous  and  rational  effort  in  creating,  or  sus- 
taining, or  fulfilling,  or  enriching,  the  social  fabric  that  man  has 
fashioned  for  himself.  All  who  contribute  by  head,  or  hand,  or 
heart,  to  the  common  endeavour  have  found  and  verified  their 
manhood;  they  have  justified  themselves  as  members  of  that 
humanity  which  for  ever  goes  forth  to  its  work  and  to  its  labour. 
And,  reversely,  those  who  play  no  such  part  at  all,  who  have  no 
intelligible  function  to  fulfil,  who  bring  no  contribution,  who  have 
discovered  no  rational  purpose  for  which  to  labour,  and  no  special 
use  for  their  heads  or  their  hands,  and  no  end  that  they  can  serve, 
and  can  see  no  reason  why  they  should  not  be  idle  if  they  choose, 
and  leisured  when  they  like,  and  live  to  please  themselves — such, 
the  workless,  have  failed  their  manhood;  they  have  betrayed 
humanity. 

1 S.  Smiles,  Character,  98. 


324 


THE  DAY'S  WORK 


^  On  a  passenger  ship  the  officers  and  crew  keep  the 
watches  day  and  night,  and  busy  themselves  continually  with 
the  working  and  the  safety  of  the  vessel ;  while  the  passengers, 
looking  upon  the  voyage  as  a  mere  holiday,  amuse  themselves  on 
deck  by  day,  and  lie  down  in  their  berths  at  night,  without  any 
sense  of  responsibility.  But  on  board  ship  every  one  knows  that 
the  positions  and  relations  of  passengers  and  crew  are  of  a  special 
and  temporary  kind,  due  to  the  specialization  of  social  function 
through  the  division  of  labour,  and  that  they  justify  themselves 
by  that  very  fact.  When  Jack  gets  ashore,  it  is  his  turn  for  a 
holiday ;  while  yonder  lounging  passenger  in  the  deck-chair  will 
have  to  put  on  his  harness  again  as  soon  as  the  vessel  reaches 
port,  and  work  all  the  harder  because  of  the  respite  he  is  now 
enjoying.  What  is  natural  and  proper,  for  the  time  being,  on 
board  of  an  ocean  liner  is  neither  natural  nor  tolerable  on  the 
voyage  of  life.  Here  all  are  sharers  in  a  common  duty  and 
responsibility.  No  one  has  any  prescriptive  right  to  enter  him- 
self in  the  ship's  books  as  a  mere  cabin-passenger.  In  some 
capacity  or  other  every  one  is  morally  bound  to  take  a  part  in  the 
working  of  the  vessel;  and,  from  the  point  of  view  of  social 
obligation,  those  who  refuse  to  do  so  are  no  better  than  maling- 
erers or  mutineers.^ 

^  Indolence  is  one  name  of  many  for  the  abstraction  of 
Francis's  mind  and  the  inactivities  of  his  body.  He  was  not  of 
the  stuff  to  "  break  ice  in  his  basin  by  candle-light,"  and  no  doves 
fluttered  against  his  lodging  window  to  wake  him  in  summer,  but 
he  was  not  indolent  in  the  struggle  against  indolence.  Not  a 
lifetime  of  mornings  spent  in  bed  killed  the  desire  to  be  up  and 
doing.  In  the  trembling  hand  of  his  last  months  he  wrote  out  in 
big  capitals  on  pages  torn  from  exercise-books  such  texts  as  were 
calculated  to  frighten  him  into  his  clothes.  "  Thou  wilt  not  lie 
a-bed  when  the  last  trump  blows  " ;  "  Thy  sleep  with  the  worms 
will  be  long  enough,"  and  so  on.  They  were  ineffectual.  His 
was  a  long  series  of  broken  trysts — trysts  with  the  sunrise, 
trysts  with  Sunday  Mass,  obligatory  but  impossible ;  trysts  with 
friends.  Whether  it  was  indolence  or,  as  he  explained  it,  an 
unsurmountable  series  of  detaining  accidents,  it  is  certain  that  he, 
captain  of  his  soul,  was  not  captain  of  his  hours.  They  played 
him  false  at  every  stroke  of  the  clock,  mutinied  with  such 
cunning  that  he  would  keep  an  appointment  in  all  good  faith  six 
hours  after  it  was  past.  Dismayed,  he  would  emerge  from  his 
room  upon  a  household  preparing  for  dinner,  when  he  had  lain 
listening  to  sounds  he  thought  betokened  breakfast.    He  was 

*  J.  C.  Lambert. 


PSALM  CIV.  23  325 

always  behindhand  with  punctual  eve,  and  in  trouble  with  strict 
noon.^ 

11. 

Work  as  a  High  Calling  of  God. 

1.  We  ought  to  think  of  our  work  as  an  expression  of  our 
personal  life — to  think  of  it  as  the  means  granted  to  us  to  give 
body  and  coherence  and  aim  to  the  great  universe-forces.  And 
then,  if  in  our  imagination  we  can  identify  these  universe-forces 
with  the  wisdom  and  love  of  God,  the  One  who  with  us  lives  and 
works,  we  shall  be  able  to  rise  to  the  point  of  view  which  Christ 
took — that  point  of  view  which  becomes  both  light  and  inspira- 
tion :  "  My  Father  worketh  continuously,  and  so  do  I."  That  is 
the  highest  reach  of  the  human  spirit — to  conceive  of  one's  work 
as  a  part  of  the  Divine  activity  itself.  The  daily  life,  with  its 
tasks  and  occupations,  its  duties  and  its  cares,  its  problems  to 
solve,  its  burdens  to  carry,  its  beauty  to  appreciate  and  enjoy — all 
these  become  an  echo  and  reflection  of  what  the  infinite  activity 
itself  is.    Viewed  in  this  light 

The  trivial  round,  the  common  task, 
Would  furnish  all  we  ought  to  ask — 
Eoom  to  deny  ourselves;  a  road 
To  bring  us  daily  nearer  God. 

^  "  Ask  me,"  she  wrote,  "  to  do  something  for  your  sake, 
something  difficult,  and  you  will  see  that  I  shall  do  it  regularly, 
which  is  for  me  the  most  difficult  thing  of  all."  Let  those  who 
reproach  themselves  for  a  desultoriness,  seemingly  incurable,  take 
heart  again  from  the  example  of  Florence  Nightingale  !  No  self- 
reproach  recurs  more  often  in  her  private  outpourings  at  this 
time  than  that  of  irregularity  and  even  sloth.  She  found  it 
difficult  to  rise  early  in  the  morning;  she  prayed  and  wrestled 
to  be  delivered  from  desultory  thoughts,  from  idle  dreaming, 
from  scrappiness  in  unselfish  work.  She  wrestled  and  she  won. 
When  her  capacities  had  found  full  scope  in  congenial  work, 
nothing  was  more  fixed  and  noteworthy  in  her  life  and  work  than 
regularity,  precision,  and  persistence.^ 

^  No  author  of  modern  times  has  striven  more  earnestly  or 
impressively  than  George  Eliot  to  inculcate  a  law  of  duty  which 

1  E.  Meynell,  The  Life  of  Francis  Thompson  (1913),  32. 
*  Sir  Edward  Cook,  The  Life  of  Florence  Nightingale,  i.  40. 


t 


326 


THE  DAY'S  WORK 


rests  simply  upon  our  human  and  social  relations,  and  is  inde- 
pendent of  the  great  spiritual  sanctions  of  the  Christian  faith. 
The  late  Mr.  F.  W.  H.  Myers,  in  one  of  his  essays,  tells  how  at 
Cambridge  he  walked  with  her  once  in  the  Fellows'  Garden  of 
Trinity,  and  how  she,  "  taking  as  her  text  the  three  words  which 
have  been  used  so  often  as  the  inspiring  trumpet-calls  of  man — 
the  words  God,  Immortality,  Duty — pronounced,  with  terrible 
earnestness,  how  inconceivable  was  the  first,  how  unbelievable  the 
second,  and  yet  how  peremptory  and  absolute  the  third.  Never, 
perhaps,  had  sterner  accents  afi&rmed  the  sovereignty  of  im- 
personal and  unrecompensing  law.  I  listened,  and  night  fell ;  her 
grave  majestic  countenance  turned  towards  me  like  a  Sibyl's  in  the 
gloom ;  it  was  as  though  she  withdrew  from  my  grasp,  one  by 
one,  the  two  scrolls  of  promise,  and  left  me  the  third  scroll  only, 
awful  with  inevitable  fate.  And  when  we  stood  at  length  and 
parted,  amid  that  columnar  circuit  of  the  forest  trees,  beneath  the 
last  twilight  of  starless  skies,  I  seemed  to  be  gazing,  like  Titus  at 
Jerusalem,  on  vacant  seats  and  empty  halls — on  a  sanctuary  with 
no  Presence  to  hallow  it,  and  heaven  left  lonely  of  a  God."  ^ 

Carlyle  preached  the  gospel  of  work  as  the  panacea  for 
human  ills.  But  he  did  so  with  the  air  of  a  parent  who  is  mixing 
a  disagreeable  medicine  for  a  child,  and  is  insisting  on  its  whole- 
some effects  in  order  to  take  away  attention  from  its  nauseousness. 
To  Morris  work  was  a  sheer  joy.  It  has  been  said  that  he  picked 
out  only  those  forms  of  work  that  were  attractive.  It  would  be 
truer  to  say  that  whatever  work  he  undertook  he  made  attractive. 
It  was  a  joy  to  him,  because  he  imported  beauty  into  it.  When 
his  spirits  flagged,  it  meant,  not  that  he  was  tired,  but  that  his 
insatiable  energies  cried  out  for  even  more.^ 

2.  Work  and  labour  have  changed  indeed  since  the  Psalmist 
pictured  man  in  the  fields,  on  the  hillside,  rising  with  the  sun,  to 
go  out  to  his  work  on  the  soil  until  the  fading  twilight  sent  him 
peacefully  home  again.  Now  labour  stays  not  with  the  dying  day. 
No  evening  sets  in  its  quiet  limit.  On  and  on  through  the  night 
its  vast  mechanism  clangs  and  roars.  On  and  on  through  the 
night  the  loaded  trains  groan  and  shriek ;  the  furnaces  blaze  on 
in  the  deep  holds  of  the  liners  that  press  on  untiringly  through 
the  black  waters.  Labour  means  no  longer  the  slow  pacing  of 
ploughing  oxen,  the  long  watch  of  the  creeping  sheep  along  the 
folds.    It  means  now  the  storm  and  stress  of  tumultuous  cities, 

^  J.  C.  Lambert.  '  A.  G.  Rickett,  William  Mon-is,  24. 


PSALM  CIV.  23 


327 


the  haste  of  quivering  looms,  the  heat  of  rushing  wheels,  the  shout 
of  hurrying  multitudes,  and  the  rush  of  crowded  streets.  Yes ! 
But  all  this  is  still  humanity  at  work.  It  is  man  achieving  his 
purpose.  It  is  man  fulfilling  his  Divine  prerogative.  It  is  man 
building  himself  a  city.  By  his  labour,  tremendous  in  its  volume 
and  energy  and  force,  he  comes  to  himself.  He  discloses  his 
powers.  He  reveals  his  elemental  character.  He  creates  a  new 
world.  He  proclaims  himself  a  man,  he  discharges  his  obligations 
to  God.    He  fulfils  his  high  calling. 

T[  Woe  to  us  if  we  let  our  work  lose  the  inspiration  that  comes 
from  knowing  that  we  do  it  for  our  Heavenly  Father  and  not  for 
ourselves !  We  stand  in  danger  of  letting  that  knowledge  go, 
because  work  so  absorbs  us  and  enchains  us  by  its  own  sheer 
power ;  but  yet  we  know  that  that  slavery  to  work  which  we  are 
aware  is  growing  in  ourselves  is  not  the  highest  or  most  noble 
type  of  life  as  we  behold  it  in  other  men.  We  know  that  the 
man  to  whom  work  is  really  sanctifying  and  helpful  is  the  man 
who  has  God  behind  his  work ;  who  is  able  to  retire  out  of  the 
fret  and  hurry  of  his  work  into  the  calmness  and  peace  of  Deity, 
and  come  out  again  into  his  labour  full  of  the  exalted  certainties 
of  the  redemption  of  Christ  and  the  love  of  God :  to  make  work 
sweet  and  fresh  and  interesting  and  spiritual  by  doing  it  not 
for  himself,  not  for  itself,  but  for  the  Saviour  in  whom  he 
lives.^ 

^  In  Millet's  "  Angelus  "  we  see  the  toil-worn  peasants,  who 
have  been  bending  over  the  ground  through  the  long  afternoon, 
standing  up  from  their  work  to  think  reverently  and  prayerfully 
of  God,  as  the  notes  of  the  evening  bell  come  floating  over  the 
fields  from  the  dim  church  tower.  The  pious  men  of  Israel  con- 
tinually heard  a  Divine  monition,  as  clear  and  sweet  as  the  sound 
of  the  Angelus-bell,  reminding  them  that  life's  labours  were  part 
of  a  godly  service,  and  that  the  eyes  of  the  Lord  were  upon  them 
in  the  midst  of  the  common  occupations  of  each  returning  day.* 

III. 

Work  as  Fellowship  with  God. 

1.  St.  Paul  more  than  once  in  his  Epistles  describes  himself 
and  his  companions  in  service  and  sacrifice  as  fellow- workers  with 
^  Phillips  Brooks,  Seeking  Life,  347.  2     c.  Lambert. 


328 


THE  DAY'S  WORK 


God.  The  words  speak  of  conscious  and  voluntary  co-operation, 
of  willing  and  intelligent  oneness  of  purpose  and  effort,  with 
the  will  and  work  of  God.  In  creating  and  perfecting  His  world, 
in  getting  His  will  done  on  earth  as  it  is  in  heaven,  God  has 
made  Himself  dependent  upon  the  help  and  fidelity  of  His  human 
children.  And  the  more  we  understand  of  the  nature  of  God  and 
the  range  of  His  working,  the  more  shall  we  realize  the  extent  to 
which  it  is  possible  for  man  to  have  a  share  in  doing  God's  work. 
Our  Lord's  teaching  about  the  Fatherhood  of  God  and  His 
personal  care  for  every  detail  of  every  life  has  thrown  a  new 
light  both  on  the  nature  of  human  work  and  on  the  spirit  in 
which  it  may  be  done.  Since  all  the  trivialities  of  life  and  the 
petty  drudgeries  are  steps  in  the  progress  towards  one  end,  there 
is  no  sphere  of  human  activity  wliich  is  excluded  from  contribut- 
ing towards  the  realization  of  the  Divine  purpose  for  the  comfort 
and  good  of  man. 


An-d  there  is  no  labourer,  however  humble,  who  may  not  be 
inspired  at  his  toil  by  the  child's  proud  consciousness  that  he 
is  helping  his  Father.  Under  all  circumstances  he  is  called  to 
co-operate  with  God  in  the  service  of  man. 

^  Her  devotion  and  her  power  of  work  were  prodigious.  "  I 
work  in  the  wards  all  day,"  she  said,  "  and  write  all  night " ;  and 
this  was  hardly  exaggeration.  Miss  Nightingale  has  been  known, 
said  General  Bentinck,  to  pass  eight  hours  on  her  knees  dressing 
wounds  and  administering  comfort.  There  were  times  when  she 
stood  for  twenty  hours  at  a  stretch,  apportioning  quarters,  distribut- 
ing stores,  directing  the  labours  of  her  staff,  or  assisting  at  the  pain- 
ful operations  where  her  presence  might  soothe  or  support.  She 
had,  said  Mr,  Osborne,  "  an  utter  disregard  of  contagion.  I  have 
known  her  spend  hours  over  men  dying  of  cholera  or  fever.  The 
more  awful  to  every  sense,  any  particular  case,  especially  if  it 
was  that  of  a  dying  man,  the  more  certainly  might  her  slight 
form  be  seen  bending  over  him,  administering  to  his  ease  by 
every  means  in  her  power,  and  seldom  quitting  his  side  till  death 
released  him."  ^ 

^  You  remember  George  Eliot's  fine  poem  on  the  famous 
violin-maker  of  Cremona  and  its  lesson :  j 


All  service  ranks  the  same  with  God. 


*  Sir  Edward  Cook,  The  Life  of  Florence  NigJUi7igale,  i.  284. 


PSALM  CIV.  23 


329 


.  .  .  Not  God  Himself  can  make  man's  best 
Without  best  men  to  help  Him.  .  .  . 

'Tis  God  gives  skill, 
But  not  without  men's  hands:  He  could  not  make 
Antonio  Stradivari's  violins 
Without  Antonio. 

It  is  a  bold  saying,  but  true.  We  have  a  work  to  do  in  the  world 
which  God  cannot  do,  which  we  must  do,  or  it  will  be  left  un- 
done. Only  as  we  co-operate  with  Him,  can  His  will  be  done  on 
earth  as  in  heaven.^ 

2.  The  Divine  power  in  the  world  is  not  an  abstract,  im- 
personal energy.  God  is  in  the  world  creating  and  perfecting,  His 
power  and  spirit  dwelling  in  and  working  through  industrious, 
righteous,  faithful,  beneficent  lives.  The  unit  of  power  in  the 
world  is  not  God  isolated  from  man,  and  not  man  isolated  from 
God ;  but  God  and  man  united,  working  purposely  and  continu- 
ously together;  God  quickening  and  inspiring  man,  and  man 
opening  his  life  to  be  a  part  of  the  Divine  life  of  the  world.  The 
religion  of  Jesus  Christ  represents  this  union  of  man  and  God  in 
purpose  and  work.  Man  works  with  God :  God  inspires  man. 
"  My  Father,"  said  Jesus,  "  works  continuously  and  I  work.  The 
works  I  do  are  not  Mine,  but  the  Father's  who  sent  Me.  I  do 
what  I  see  My  Father  doing.  And  as  the  Father  sent  Me  so 
send  I  you.  The  glory  He  has  given  to  Me  I  give  to  you — that 
we  may  all  be  one,  doing  the  same  thing,  working  the  same 
work." 

11  We  have  all  been  tired  in  our  time,  one  may  presume ;  we 
have  toiled  in  business,  or  in  some  ambitious  course,  or  in  the 
perfecting  of  some  accomplishment,  or  even  in  the  mastery  of 
some  game  or  the  pursuit  of  some  amusement,  till  we  were  utterly 
wearied :  how  many  of  us  have  so  toiled  in  love  ?  How  many  of 
us  have  been  wearied  and  worn  with  some  labour  to  which  we 
set  ourselves  for  God's  sake  ?  This  is  what  the  Apostle  has  in 
view  in  his  phrase  "  labour  of  love,"  and,  strange  as  it  may  appear, 
it  is  one  of  the  things  for  which  he  gives  God  thanks.  But  is  he 
not  right  ?  Is  it  not  a  thing  to  evoke  gratitude  and  joy,  that  God 
counts  us  worthy  to  be  fellow-labourers  with  Him  in  the  manifold 
works  which  love  imposes  ?  ^ 

^  John  Hunter,  Be  Profundis  Clamavi,  2Z8. 

^  J.  Denney,  The  Epistles  to  the  Thessalonians,  29. 


330 


THE  DAY'S  WORK 


Ah !  brothers,  let  us  work  our  work,  for  love 

Of  what  the  God  in  us  prevails  to  do ! 

And  if,  when  all  is  done,  the  unanswering  void 

And  silence  weigh  upon  our  souls,  remember 

The  music  of  a  lonely  heart  may  help 

How  many  lonely  hearts  unknown  to  him ! 

The  seeming  void  and  silence  are  aware 

With  audience  august,  invisible, 

Who  yield  thank-offering,  encouragement, 

And  strong  co-operation;  the  dim  deep 

Is  awful  with  the  God  in  whom  we  move, 

Who  moulds  to  consummation  where  we  fail. 

And  saith,  "Well  done!"  to  every  faithful  deed, 

Who  in  Himself  will  full  accomplish  all.^ 

3.  If  work  is  ever  to  win  its  honour,  it  will  be  from  out  of 
the  name  of  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord.  He  was  Himself  the  ideal 
worker.  He  lived  in  the  spirit  of  work,  aware  of  the  task  set 
Him — lived  to  do  the  will  of  Him  that  sent  Him ;  conscious  of 
the  strain  of  the  allotted  limit — the  twelve  hours  of  the  working 
day  into  which  all  the  work  must  be  crowded  before  the  night 
fall,  in  which  no  man  can  work ;  living  ever  among  men  as  one 
that  worketh;  straining  under  the  yoke  as  He  felt  the  terrible 
pressure  of  His  task;  straitened  until  it  was  accomplished; 
consecrated  to  the  work  of  glorifying  the  Father  by  doing  the 
work  which  He  gave  Him  to  do;  yielding  Himself  to  death  as 
soon  as  He  could  pronounce  that  work  to  have  been  done  faith- 
fully and  could  say  over  it,  "  It  is  finished." 

1[  The  highest  soul  this  world  has  seen  was  a  mechanic  by 
trade.  Behind  His  year  and  a  half  as  a  teacher  lay  long  years  in 
which  He  toiled  in  wood,  "  making  ploughs  and  yokes,"  as  one  of 
the  earliest  Fathers  says.  And  that  was  a  preaching  mightier 
perhaps  than  His  mightiest  word.  It  was  the  inauguration  of 
labour's  day.  It  was  the  shifting  of  the  basis  of  esteem.  In  the 
age  into  which  He  came,  work  of  that  kind  was  under  taboo. 
The  Greek,  the  Eoman,  thought  it  an  occupation  for  slaves.  And 
for  long  ages  after,  that  continued  the  current  view.  It  was 
endorsed  by  official  Christianity.  The  Pope  in  the  splendour  of 
his  Court  forgot  the  tradition  of  the  Carpenter.  To-day  we  are 
beginning  once  more  to  remember  it.    The  Redeemer  of  our  soul 

*  Roden  Noel,  Collected  Poems,  364. 


PSALM  CIV.  23 


331 


is  becoming  the  Eedeemer  of  our  economics,  of  our  social  state. 
The  age-long  blindness  is  passing  away.^ 

Lord  of  the  breeze,  the  rolling  tide, 

The  rivers  rushing  to  the  sea, 
The  clouds  that  through  the  azure  glide, — 

Well  works  the  hand  that  works  with  Thee. 

How  finely  toil,  from  morn  till  eve, 
Thy  ministers  of  light  and  shade; 

How  fair  a  web  the  sunbeams  weave 
Of  waving  grass  and  blossoms  made! 

O  Thou  that  madest  earth  and  man 

That  man  should  make  an  earth  more  fair, 

Give  us  to  see  Thy  larger  plan 
And  Thy  creative  joy  to  share. 

Had  we  but  eyes,  and  hands  of  skill, 
Had  we  but  love,  our  work  would  be 

Wisely  begun,  and  bettered  still. 
Till  all  were  perfected  by  Thee. 

Work  Thou  with  us,  that  what  is  wrought 

May  bring  to  earth  diviner  days. 
While  in  the  higher  realms  of  thought 

A  temple  glorious  we  raise.^ 


IV. 

WOKK  AND  EeST. 

The  strangest  thing  about  work  is  the  way  in  which  all  men 
praise  it,  and  yet  all  men  try  to  get  away  from  it.  There  is  no 
subject  so  popular  as  the  blessedness  of  work.  There  is  no  theory 
so  universal  as  that  of  the  wretchedness  of  not  being  compelled  to 
work.  There  is  no  man  who  does  not  feel  a  certain  excited  sense 
of  admiration,  a  certain  satisfaction,  a  certain  comfort  that  things 
are  right,  when  he  stands  where  men  are  working  their  hardest, 
where  trade  is  roaring  or  the  great  hammers  are  deafening  you 

*  J.  Brierley,  Life,  and  the  Ideal,  24. 
»  W.  G.  Tarrant,  Songs  Devout,  48. 


332 


THE  DAY'S  WORK 


as  they  clang  upon  the  iron.  Everywhere  work  and  the  ap- 
proval of  work !  and  yet  everywhere  the  desire  to  get  away  from 
work!  Everywhere  what  all  these  men  we  see  are  toiling  for 
is  to  make  such  an  accumulation  of  money  that  they  shall  not 
have  to  toil  any  longer.  Now,  this  double  sense,  this  value  of 
work  and  impatience  with  work  as  they  exist  together,  seems  to 
be  the  crude  expression  in  men's  minds  of  the  conviction  that 
work  is  good,  that  men  degenerate  and  rust  without  it,  and  yet 
that  work  is  at  its  best  and  brings  its  best  results,  is  most 
honourable  and  most  useful,  only  when  it  is  aiming  at  something 
beyond  itself.  Everybody  will  bear  witness  that  this  is  the 
healthiest  feeling  about  any  work  that  we  have  to  do ;  satisfaction 
and  pleasure  in  doing  it,  but  expectation  of  having  it  done  some 
day  and  graduating  from  it  into  some  higher  state  which  we 
think  of  as  rest. 

1.  If  we  look  to  the  arrangements  of  nature  for  indications 
of  what  man's  life  is  meant  to  be,  we  see  at  once  that,  bravely  as 
she  has  provided  for  his  work,  she  has  not  thought  of  him  only  as 
a  working  being.  She  has  set  her  morning  sun  in  the  sky  to 
tempt — nay,  to  summon — him  forth  to  his  work  and  to  his  labour, 
to  make  him  ashamed  of  himself  if  he  loiters  and  shirks  at  home ; 
but  she  has  limited  her  daylight,  she  has  given  her  sun  only  his 
appointed  hours,  and  the  labour  and  work  are  always  to  be  only 
"until  the  evening."  Eest  as  truly  as  work  is  written  in  her 
constitution.    Eest,  then,  as  much  as  work  is  an  element  of  life. 

^  After  a  very  hard  day's  work, — during  which  he  had  con- 
firmed candidates,  preached  at  the  re-opening  of  a  church,  spoken 
two  or  three  times,  and  done  much  beside  in  a  manner  which 
perhaps  no  person  but  himself  could  have  accomplished, — Bishop 
Wilberforce  returned  in  the  evening  to  Turvey,  where  he  was 
staying.  A  small  party  had  been  invited  to  meet  him  at  dinner,  and 
there  was  some  bright  and  pleasant  conversation.  When  the  time 
came  for  retiring  into  the  drawing-room,  the  Bishop,  who  looked 
a  little  fatigued,  said  to  me :  *'  There  is  nothing  which  makes  me 
more  absolutely  disgusted  with  myself  than  feeling  tired  when 
evening  comes.  What  business  have  I  to  be  tired  ?  nothing  gives 
me  any  comfort  at  all  but  that  verse  in  the  Psalms, — *  Man 
goeth  forth  to  his  work  and  to  his  labour  until  the  evening'; 
and  so,  I  suppose  that,  when  evening  comes,  he  may  rest."  ^ 

*  J.  W.  Burgon,  Lives  of  Twelve  Good  Men,  ii.  39. 


PSALM  CIV.  23 


333 


2.  Man  goes  out  to  his  work,  to  his  labour,  only  with  one 
softening  clause  in  the  agreement — "  until  the  evening."  There 
are  limits  set;  there  are  reliefs  permitted  and  contrived;  there 
are  moments  for  slackening,  for  recreation,  for  repose.  Not 
unbroken  this  labour;  not  monotonously  blind  this  work.  No, 
fixed  times,  ordered  signals,  ordained  closes  ! 

Sunset  and  evening  star. 
And  one  clear  call  for  me. 

Man  knows  the  signs.  He  is  not  left  forgotten  or  unconsidered. 
He  can  calculate  when  the  strain  will  be  off. 

Twilight  and  evening  bell, 
And  after  that  the  dark. 

So,  in  kindly,  successive  periods,  he  turns  to  the  rest  that  he  has 
earned.  "  He  goeth  forth  to  his  work "  with  the  friendly  sense 
in  his  heart  that  it  will  not  last  for  ever.  It  will  end  in  the  quiet 
hour  when  the  sun  goes  down. 

^  When  in  the  beginning  God  said :  Let  there  be  Light,  and 
there  was  Light,  Light  did  not  spring  into  undivided  empire,  but 
was  ordained  to  rule  alternately  with  darkness.  Day  and  night 
abide  for  ever.  What  was  the  reason,  so  far  as  man  is  concerned, 
for  this  curbing  and  restriction  of  so  free  an  element  as  Light  ? 
The  readiest  reason  seems  to  be — for  our  relief  and  rest.  But  that 
is  not  half  the  reason.  Our  light  is  broken  up  and  shortened,  not 
only  in  order  to  afford  us  intervals  of  rest,  but  also  to  bestow  upon 
us  intensity ;  not  only  to  relieve  our  faculties  from  the  strain  of 
life,  but  also  to  strain  and  stimulate  them  ever  more  keenly. 
According  to  Christ  Himself  the  night  cometh  when  no  man  can 
work,  not  merely  that  man  may  hope  for  release  beneath  its 
shelter,  but  that  he  may  work  while  it  is  called  to-day.  Had 
there  been  no  interval,  since  first  upon  the  tones  of  God's  word 
Light  rippled  across  the  face  of  the  deep — had  the  Sun  been 
created  to  stand  still  in  the  midst  of  the  heavens,  then  indeed  one 
might  say  there  would  have  been  no  progress  for  man.  Let  your 
imagination  strike  Night  out  of  the  world,  and  you  need  not  begin 
to  speculate  on  the  iron  frames  men  should  have  required  to  bear 
the  unrelieved  strain,  for  it  is  tolerably  certain  that,  without  the 
urgency  and  discipline  which  a  limited  day  brings  upon  our  life, 
we  should  never  have  been  stimulated  to  enough  of  toil  to  make 
us  weary.  Night,  which  has  been  called  the  Liberator  of  the 
Slave,  is  far  more  the  task-mistress  of  the  free — a  task-mistress 
who  does  not  scourge  nor  drive  us  in  panic,  but  who  startles  our 


334 


THE  DAY'S  WORK 


sluggishness,  rallies  our  wandering  thoughts,  develops  our  instincts 
of  order,  reduces  our  impulsiveness  to  methods,  incites  us  to  our 
very  best,  and  only  then  crowns  her  beneficence  by  rewarding 
our  obedience  with  rest.  In  short,  Night,  while  she  is  nature's 
mercy  on  our  weakness,  is  nature's  purest  discipline  for  our 
strength.^ 

3.  The  daily  drawing  of  the  curtain  between  man  and  his 
active  labours  represents  and  continually  reminds  us  of  the  need 
of  the  internal  as  well  as  the  external  in  our  lives.  It  brings 
up  to  us  our  need,  by  bringing  up  to  us  our  opportunity,  of 
meditation,  of  contemplation.  For  active  life  is  always  tending 
to  become  shallow.  It  is  always  forgetting  its  motives,  forgetting  its 
principles,  forgetting  what  it  is  so  busy  for,  and  settling  itself  into 
superficial  habits.  So  God  shuts  us  out  from  our  work  and  bids 
us  daily  think  what  the  heart  of  our  work  is,  what  we  are  doing 
it  for.  If  this  is  the  meaning  of  the  evening — and  no  man 
sees  the  daylight  sink  away  and  the  shadows  gather  without 
sensitively  feeling  some  such  meaning  in  it — then  surely  we 
need  it. 

^  It  is  hard  to  see  how,  were  it  not  for  the  continually 
repeated,  daily  stoppages  of  work,  we  could  remember,  as  we 
need  to  remember,  the  great  close  of  work  which  is  coming  to 
every  one  of  us  and  may  be  very  near.  I  picture  to  myself  a 
world  without  an  evening,  a  world  with  an  unsetting  daylight, 
and  with  men  who  never  tired  at  their  tasks  ;  and  it  seems  as  if 
death  in  a  world  like  that  would  be  so  much  more  terrible  and 
mysterious  than  it  is  now  ;  when  once  a  day,  for  many  years,  we 
have  learned  that  work  was  not  meant  to  last  always,  and  have 
had  to  drop  our  tools  as  if  in  practice  and  rehearsal  for  the  great 
darkness  when  we  are  to  let  them  go  for  ever.^ 

**  And  is  the  twilight  closing  fast  ? 

(I  hear  the  night-breeze  wild) ; 
And  is  the  long  week's  work  all  done  ? " 

"Thy  work  is  done,  my  child." 

**  Must  I  not  rise  at  dawn  of  day  ? 

(The  night-breeze  swells  so  wild); 
And  must  I  not  resume  my  toil  ? " 

"  No  !  nevermore,  my  child." 

*  George  Adam  Smith,  The  Forgiveness  of  Sins,  92. 

*  Phillips  Brooks,  Seeking  Life,  348. 


PSALM  CIV.  23 


*'  And  may  I  sleep  through  all  the  dark  ? 

(The  wind  to-night  is  wild) ; 
And  may  I  rest  tired  head  and  feet  ? " 

"Thou  mayest  rest,  my  child." 

"  And  may  I  fold  my  feeble  hands  ? 

(Hush !  breezes  sad  and  wild) ; 
And  may  I  close  these  wearied  lids  ? " 

"Yes,  close  thine  eyes,  my  child." 

"Oh,  passing  sweet  these  closing  hours! 

And  sweet  the  night-breeze  mild, 
And  the  Sabbath-day  that  cometh  fast ! " 

"  The  Eternal  Day,  my  child." 

"The  night  is  gone,  clear  breaks  the  dawn, 

It  rises  soft  and  mild; 
Dear  Lord !  I  see  Thee  face  to  face  ! 

"Yes!  face  to  face,  my  child." 


Leanness  of  Soul. 


PS.  XXV.-CXIX. — 2  2 


Literature. 


Banks  (L.  A.),  David  and  his  Friends^  212. 

Dinwoodie  (J.),  Outline  Studies,  157. 

Eyton  (R.),  The  Search  for  God,  88. 

Holden  (J.  S.),  Life's  Flood-Tide,  35. 

Jeffs  (H.),  The  Art  of  Exposition,  133. 

Jellett  (H.),  Sermons  on  Special  and  Festival  Occasions,  115. 

Maclaren  (A.),  The  Book  of  Psalms  (Expositor's  Bible),  iii.  139. 

Murphy  (J.  B.  C),  The  Service  of  the  Master,  160. 

Parker  (J.),  The  City  Temple,  i.  147. 

Perowne  (J.  J.  S.),  The  Book  of  Psalms,  ii.  223. 

Spurgeon  (C.  H.),  The  Treasury  of  David,  v.  77,  97. 

Voysey  (C),  Sermons,  ix.  (1886),  No.  47. 

Wordsworth  (C),  Christian  Boyhood  at  a  Public  School,  ii.  189. 


338 


Leanness  of  Soul. 


And  he  gave  them  their  request; 

But  sent  leanness  into  their  soul.— Ps.  cvi.  15. 

1.  The  history  of  God's  past  is  a  record  of  continuous  mercies, 
the  history  of  man's  is  one  of  as  continuous  sin.  The  memory 
of  the  former  quickened  the  Psalmist  into  his  sunny  song  of 
thankfulness  in  the  previous  psalm;  that  of  the  latter  moves 
him  to  the  confessions  in  this  one.  The  two  psalms  are  comple- 
ments of  each  other,  and  are  connected  not  only  as  being  both 
retrospective,  but  by  the  identity  of  their  beginnings  and  the 
difference  of  their  points  of  view.  The  parts  of  the  early  history 
dealt  with  in  the  one  are  lightly  touched  or  altogether  omitted  in 
the  other.  The  key-note  of  Psalm  cv.  is,  "  Eemember  his  mighty 
deeds  " ;  that  of  Psalm  cvi.  is,  "  They  forgot  his  mighty  deeds." 

2.  After  an  introduction  in  some  measure  like  that  in  Psalm  cv., 

the  Psalmist  plunges  into  his  theme,  and  draws  out  the  long,  sad 

story  of  Israel's  faithlessness,  of  which  he  recounts  seven  instances 

during  the  wilderness  sojourn.    One  is  the  lusting  for  flesh  food 

— an  evil  traced  to  forgetfulness  of  God's  doings,  to  which  is 

idded  impatient  disinclination  to  wait  the  unfolding  of  His  counsel 

3r  plan.    These  evils  cropped  up  with  strange  celerity.  The 

memory  of  benefits  was  transient,  as  if  they  had  been  written  on 

the  blown  sands  of  the  desert.    "  They  hasted ;  they  forgot  his 

iYorks."    Of  how  many  of  us  that  has  to  be  said  !    We  remember 

pain  and  sorrow  longer  than  joy  and  pleasure.    It  is  always  difficult 

:o  bridle  desires  and  be  still  until  God  discloses  His  purposes. 

We  are  all  apt  to  try  to  force  His  hand  open,  and  to  impose  our 

ivishes  on  Him,  rather  than  to  let  His  will  mould  us.    So,  on 

'orgetfulness  and  impatience  there  followed  then,  as  there  follow 

jtill,  eager  longings  after  material  good  and  a  tempting  of  God, 

^ho  is  "  tempted  "  when  unbelief  demands  proofs  of  His  power, 

339 


340  LEANNESS  OF  SOUL 

instead  of  waiting  patiently  for  Him.  In  Num.  xi.  33  J ehovah  is 
said  to  have  smitten  the  people  "  with  a  very  great  plague."  The 
psalm  specifies  more  particularly  the  nature  of  the  stroke  by 
calling  it  "  leanness "  or  "  wasting  sickness,"  which  invaded  the 
life  of  the  sinners.  The  words  are  true  in  a  deeper  sense,  though  \ 
not  so  meant.  For  whoever  sets  his  hot  desires  in  self-willed  \ 
fashion  on  material  good,  and  succeeds  in  securing  their  gratifica- 
tion, gains  with  the  satiety  of  his  lower  sense  the  loss  of  a  shrivelled 
spiritual  nature.    Full-fed  flesh  makes  starved  souls. 

L 

Desire  and  its  Gratification. 

1.  The  words  of  the  text  have  a  wider  scope  than  as  a 
reference  to  an  incident  in  Israelitish  history.  They  tell  a  sad 
story  indeed,  written  in  the  annals  of  God's  ancient  people,  but 
they  call  up  stories  innumerable  in  the  lives  of  men  for  whose 
•example  the  story  was  written,  but  who  have  failed  to  profit  by 
it,  and  to  whose  lives  there  may  be  appended  the  same  legend, 
"  He  gave  them  their  request ;  but  sent  leanness  into  their  soul." 
And  if  we  are  like  the  Israelites,  if  we  forget  all  that  God  has 
done  for  the  promotion  of  our  happiness  here,  all  that  He  has 
done  to  fit  us  for  a  higher  state  of  being  hereafter ;  if  we  will  not 
wait  for  His  counsel,  wait  for  a  time  when  we  shall  no  longer  see 
His  dealings  darkly  reflected  to  us  in  an  imperfect  mirror,  but 
clear  before  us  in  the  pure  atmosphere  of  heaven ;  and  if,  instead 
of  patiently  bearing  with  the  conditions  of  our  "pilgrim  life,  we 
murmur  because  we  cannot  have  all  our  wishes  gratified,  and  are 
dissatisfied  with  the  restraints  under  which  we  may  be  placed, 
is  it  incredible  that  God  should  punish  us,  as  He  did  them,  by 
granting  us  the  things  upon  which  we  have  set  our  hearts  ? 

2.  It  is  certain  that  God  does  not  always  interfere  to  keep  us 
from  sin,  for  that  would  frustrate  His  purpose  in  wishing  us  to 
grow  good  by  experience,  to  grow  good  by  first  hating  evil  and 
then  loving  the  good  so  that  we  may  follow  and  do  the  good  from 
a  free  choice.  He  will  help  us  if  we  earnestly  desire  it,  but  not 
otherwise;  for  that  would  be  forcing  instead  of  drawing  and 


PSALM  cvi.  15 


341 


winning  our  wills  to  His.  By  the  discipline  of  experience  God 
often  lets  us  have  our  own  way,  permits  us  to  gain  what  we 
desire,  sometimes  honourably,  at  other  times  dishonourably, 
through  the  mazes  of  meanness  and  even  of  crime.  Some  desires 
are  in  themselves  perfectly  innocent  and  lawful,  others  vicious 
and  unlawful.  But  under  the  discipline  of  God  the  gratification 
of  desires  quite  lawful  in  themselves  sometimes  leads  to  our 
moral  and  spiritual  injury. 

^  God  recognizes  and  respects,  at  all  times.  His  gift  to  man 
of  freewill.  God  does  not,  for  example,  force  grace  upon  the  soul. 
He  does  not  even,  in  some  cases,  reveal  Himself  except  to  those 
who  seek  Him.  He  points  out  to  us  indeed  the  right  way. 
"  Walk  in  this  way,"  He  says,  "  and  it  shall  be  your  glory  and 
your  joy."  But  He  does  not  say,  "Walk  in  it,  you  shall  and 
must."  And,  in  like  manner,  if  God  sees  that  our  hearts  are  set 
upon  something  which  we  have  said  we  must  have,  at  all  costs, 
He  says,  "  You  shall  have  it — but  the  consequences  of  your  choice 
be  upon  your  own  head  ! "  There  is  much  insight  and  teaching  in 
the  old  fable  of  Midas,  King  of  Phrygia,  who  prayed  that  every- 
thing he  touched  might  turn  to  gold.  But  his  wish,  when  it  was 
granted,  proved  a  fatal  one,  for  his  very  food  turned  into  gold  also, 
and  soon  he  was  starving.^ 

^  It  is  well  to  pray  that  God  should  put  into  our  minds  good 
desires,  and  that  we  should  use  our  wills  to  keep  ourselves  from 
dwelling  too  much  upon  small  and  pitiful  desires,  for  the  fear  is 
that  they  will  be  abundantly  gratified.  And  thus  when  the  time 
comes  for  recollection,  it  is  a  very  wonderful  thing  to  look  back 
over  life,  and  see  how  eagerly  gracious  God  has  been  to  us.  He 
knows  very  well  that  we  cannot  learn  the  paltry  value  of  the 
things  we  desire,  if  they  are  withheld  from  us,  but  only  if  they 
are  granted  to  us;  and  thus  we  have  no  reason  to  doubt  His 
fatherly  intention,  because  He  does  so  much  dispose  life  to  please 
us.  And  we  need  not  take  it  for  granted  that  He  will  lead  us  by 
harsh  and  provocative  discipline,  though  when  He  grants  our 
desire,  He  sometimes  sends  leanness  withal  into  our  soul.^ 

3.  It  does  not  follow  that  all  pleasure  or  attainment  of  desire 
is  highly  dangerous,  if  not  pernicious,  and  that  the  welfare  of  the 
soul  is  incompatible  with  physical  enjoyment.  All  these  con- 
clusions are  false.    The  mischief  arising  from  gratification  is 

^  J.  B.  C.  Murphy,  The  Service  of  the  Master,  165. 
2  A.  C.  Benson,  Joyous  Gard  (1913),  91. 


1 


342  LEANNESS  OF  SOUL 

caused  only  by  the  undue  importance  which  is  attached  to  it,  and 
not  by  the  gratification  itself,  so  long  as  it  is  lawful.  The 
righteous  and  loving  God,  we  may  be  sure,  does  not  grudge  us  any 
one  of  our  pleasures,  is  not  moved  with  malignity  or  envy,  that 
He  should  seek  to  revenge  Himself  for  our  pleasure  by  smiting 
our  souls  with  the  curse  of  leanness.  But  He  knows  the  infinite 
value  of  the  soul  and  the  necessity  for  its  being  properly 
nourished  and  in  full  vigour,  and  He  must  teach  us  by  experience 
how  immensely  more  valuable  the  soul  is  and  how  far  more 
needful  it  is  for  us  to  have  our  souls  in  health  than  to  have  any 
earthly  desires  satisfied.  He  did  so  teach  those  poets  of  old 
who  said  "  The  law  of  thy  mouth  is  better  unto  me  than  thousands 
of  gold  and  silver."  "  I  have  esteemed  the  words  of  his  mouth  l 
more  than  my  necessary  food."  "Thou  art  my  God,  my  bliss,  y 
My  welfare  is  nothing  without  thee."  It  is  to  bring  us  into  this 
state  that,  whenever  we  set  our  hearts  too  much  upon  our  own 
gratification,  our  souls  are  made  to  suffer  for  it. 

A  man  may  have  before  him  only  the  attainment  of  a 
perfectly  honourable  and  legitimate  ambition.  Let  such  an  one, 
in  the  Name  of  God,  go  on,  and  prosper.  But  if  it  so  be  that  God 
is  banished  from  that  man's  life  because  of  his  ambition — if  he 
begin  to  say  that  he  has  "  no  time  "  for  prayer,  for  the  reading  of 
God's  Word,  for  meditation  upon  holy  things,  no  time  for  prepara- 
tion for  Holy  Communion — then  let  him  tremble  also.  He  will 
get  his  desire,  it  may  be,  but  what  will  that  avail  him  if,  when  he 
has  won  the  prize,  it  suddenly  lose  all  its  value  in  his  eyes  and 
bring  him  no  real  satisfaction ;  if  there  shall  spring  up  within  him 
the  consciousness  of  a  never-dying,  ever-increasing  hunger — a 
hunger  of  the  soul — a  gnawing,  a  restlessness,  a  craving,  which 
God,  and  God  alone,  can  satisfy  and  soothe?  And  what  is  all 
this  but  fulness  of  body  and  leanness  of  soul  ?  ^ 

4.  Mark  where  the  judgment  of  God  falls.  It  falls  on  the  i 
highest  nature — it  falls  on  the  soul !  The  man  on  whom  God's  i 
disapprobation  rests,  withers  at  his  very  root.  His  mental  power 
declines,  his  moral  nature  shrivels ;  he  goes  down  in  the  volume 
and  quality  of  his  being.  Think  of  a  lean  soul !  No  compass, 
no  grandeur,  no  tenderness  of  manhood!  A  lean  soul,  narrow, 
stunted,  withered,  sapless,  blind,  deaf,  idiotic!  The  man  would 
have  his  prize ;  he  would  set  up  his  own  wisdom  ;  he  would  be  as 

1  J.  B.  C.  Murphy,  The  Service  of  the  Master,  167. 


PSALM  cvi.  15 


343 


God  unto  himself ;  and  now  look  at  him,  and  see  how  hunger- 
bitten  and  ghastly  is  his  dishonoured  soul.  We  know  the  horror, 
the  ghastliness,  of  external  emaciation  brought  about  by  illness, 
when  man  or  woman  becomes  literally  skin  and  bone.  What 
a  suggestion  such  a  sight  conveys  of  the  possibilities  of  inward 
emaciation !  Beneath  the  sleek,  prosperous,  well-fed,  comfortable 
appearance,  what  if  there  be,  hidden  from  men  but  open  before 
God,  a  horrible  emaciation  in  a  man's  real  self-leanness  of  soul ! 

^  You  have  heard  of  the  white  ant  that  commits  such  terrible 
devastations  in  wooden  buildings  in  some  portions  of  the  globe. 
That  little  insect  will  insert  itself  into  the  largest  wooden 
structure  that  men  can  put  up,  and  in  course  of  time  it  will  eat 
away  the  whole  of  it,  leaving  nothing  but  the  thinnest  outer  shell ; 
the  building  will  look  as  if  nothing  had  befallen  it ;  the  shape 
will  be  unaltered ;  but  put  your  finger  upon  it,  or  bring  the 
slightest  pressure  to  bear  upon  it,  and  you  will  find  that  it  is  no 
longer  solid,  but  a  hollow  and  useless  outline.  Is  there  not  a 
more  terrible  power  that  enters  into  the  inner  nature  of  man,  and 
utterly  consumes  all  that  is  strong  and  noble  and  beautiful  in  his 
soul?i 

II, 

The  Lower  Satisfaction. 

1.  Of  how  many  is  it  true  that  the  attainment  of  wealth  and 
the  gratification  of  ambition  have  not  satisfied  an  ever-increasing 
longing  for  more,  and  that  the  happiness  which  they  were  expected 
to  secure  is  ever  marred  by  a  leanness  that  enters  into  the  soul. 
Moral  and  spiritual  decline  often  follows  the  too  eager  pursuit  of 
earthly  things.  "  They  that  will  be  rich,"  says  the  Apostle,  "  fall 
into  temptation  and  a  snare,  and  into  many  foolish  and  hurtful 
lusts,  which  drown  men  in  destruction  and  perdition."  How  must 
it  be  in  this  money-loving  age  with  the  many  whose  whole  souls 
are  filled  with  this  fatal  desire,  and  how  terrible  is  the  spiritual 
leanness  of  a  soul  from  which  the  love  of  money  has  wholly 
driven  out  the  love  of  God !  So  far  as  our  outward  circumstances 
are  concerned,  our  fullest  request  may  have  been  granted.  We 
may  have  estates,  titles,  honours;  men  may  wait  for  our  word, 
and  follow  our  guidance  in  all  secular  speculations  and  engage- 

^  Joseph  Parker. 


344  LEANNESS  OF  SOUL 


ments;  and  yet  it  may  be  said  of  us,  "In  thy  lifetime  thou 
receivedst  thy  good  things" — so,  with  the  request  on  the  one 
hand  answered  to  the  utmost,  we  have  on  the  other  a  soul  that 
has  been  dwarfed  almost  up  to  the  point  of  extinction. 

^  There  is  a  deep  lesson  to  be  read  in  a  strange  picture  by 
Burne  Jones,  called  The  Depths  of  the  Sea."  A  mermaid,  beauti- 
ful in  face,  but  hideously  repellent  in  her  scaly  train,  has  flung 
her  arms  around  a  youth,  and  is  dragging  him  down  through  the 
green  waters  to  her  cave.  In  her  face  is  the  intense  malignity 
of  cruel  triumph  and  cruel  scorn ;  in  the  youth's  face  is  the  agony 
of  frustration  and  of  death.  And  the  motto  below  is,  "Habes 
tota  quod  mente  petisti,  Infelix  ! " — "  Thou  hast  what  thou  sought- 
est  with  all  thy  soul,  unhappy  one."  Oh  that  it  were  in  my 
power  to  preach  to  all  young  men  a  sermon  of  meaning  so  intense 
as  that  picture  !  The  mermaid,  like  the  Siren  of  mythology,  like 
the  strange  woman  of  the  Proverbs,  is  the  harlot  Sense.  She  is 
the  type  of  carnal  temptation,  ending  in  disillusion,  shame,  anguish, 
death.  It  is  the  meaning  of  the  saying  of  the  rabbis,  "  The  demons 
come  to  us  smiling  and  beautiful:  when  they  have  done  their 
work,  they  drop  their  mask."  It  is  the  meaning  of  Solomon : 
"  But  he  knoweth  not  that  the  dead  are  there,  and  that  her  guests 
are  in  the  depths  of  hell."  God  has  granted  to  that  youth  his 
heart's  desire,  and  sent  leanness  withal  into  his  bones.  He  has 
got  what  he  passionately  longed  for,  and  it  is — death  !^ 

^  "  But  sent  leanness  into  their  soul."  Ah,  that  "  but "  !  It 
embittered  all.  The  meat  was  poison  to  them  when  it  came 
without  a  blessing :  whatever  it  might  do  in  fattening  the  body, 
it  was  poor  stuff  when  it  made  the  soul  lean.  If  we  must  know 
scantiness,  may  God  grant  it  may  not  be  scantiness  of  soul:  yet 
this  is  a  common  attendant  upon  worldly  prosperity.  When 
wealth  grows  with  many  a  man  his  worldly  estate  is  fatter,  but 
his  soul's  state  is  leaner.  To  gain  silver  and  lose  gold  is  a  poor 
increase ;  but  to  win  for  the  body  and  lose  for  the  soul  is  far 
worse.  How  earnestly  miglit  Israel  have  unprayed  lier  prayers 
had  she  known  what  would  come  with  their  answer  !  The  prayers 
of  lust  will  have  to  be  wept  over.  We  fret  and  fume  till  we  have 
our  desire,  and  then  we  have  to  fret  still  more  because  the  attain- 
ment of  it  ends  in  bitter  disappointment.^ 

2.  We  must  guard  against  the  mistake — into  which  we  may' 
so  easily  fall — of  applying  the  text  and  the  lessons  to  be  drawn] 

*  F.  W.  Farrar,  Social  and  Present  Day  Questions,  174. 
a  C.  H.  Spurgeon. 


PSALM  cvi.  15 


345 


from  it  only  to  the  rich  and  prosperous,  whereas  it  applies  to  them 
in  exactly  the  same  sense  as  it  applies  to  every  one,  whether  he 
be  rich  or  poor,  who  is  in  the  state  of  earnest  desire  for  some 
earthly  good  or  who  is  in  the  state  of  satisfied  desire,  a  content- 
ment wholly  derived  from  possession  or  gratification.  And  this 
experience  is  to  be  met  with  in  all  classes,  among  all  sorts  and 
conditions  of  men.  The  Israelites,  of  whom  the  words  of  the 
text  were  spoken,  were  certainly  not  among  the  rich,  but  at 
the  time  were  poor  and  afflicted — or  thought  themselves  so — 
and  were  therefore  all  the  more  in  danger  of  the  ill  effects  of  full 
gratification. 

^  There  are  business  men  in  our  city  to-day  who  have  schemed 
for  a  future  which,  if  analysed,  would  disclose  nothing  but  a  care- 
ful regard  for  personal  and  domestic  comfort.  I  can  give  you 
the  brief  programme  of  such  men:  it  runs  after  this  fashion — 
country,  garden,  quietness,  out-door  amusements.  They  are  at 
perfect  liberty  to  leave  the  city,  to  abandon  the  poor,  to  get  away 
from  all  that  is  foetid,  noisome,  and  otherwise  offensive ;  but  let 
them  beware  lest,  in  reaching  this  supposed  heaven,  they  find 
that  they  have  gone  in  the  wrong  direction,  and  that  where  they 
expected  heaven  to  begin  they  find  that  they  have  only  reached 
the  outward  edge  of  earth.^ 

^  There  is  a  German  folk  story  of  a  very  poor  charcoal  burner 
who  had  a  kind  heart  and  was  always  doing  good  turns  to  people. 
He  often  wished  that  he  were  rich  that  he  might  help  still  more. 
One  day  in  the  forest  a  wicked-looking  gnome  appeared  and  told 
him  he  would  make  him  rich  on  one  condition.  He  must  exchange 
his  heart  of  flesh  for  a  wonderful  mechanical  stone  heart  that  the 
gnome  had  made  and  kept  in  his  workshop  in  a  cave  underneath 
the  forest.  The  poor  man  did  not  like  the  condition,  but  was 
tempted  and  consented  to  the  bargain.  He  was  cast  into  a  deep 
sleep  and  when  he  awoke  the  exchange  had  been  effected  and  he 
felt  the  stone  heart  working  within  him  with  perfect  regularity, 
but  it  was  cold,  very  cold.  When  he  got  back  to  the  village 
everybody  noticed  the  change.  He  was  harsh,  overbearing,  a 
changed  man ;  riches  came  to  him ;  everything  he  touched  turned 
to  gold,  but  the  richer  he  grew,  the  colder  seemed  the  heart, 
and  when  old  age  crept  upon  him  he  longed  to  be  poor  again 
and  have  back  his  warm  human  heart.  That  is  a  modern  way  of 
saying  that  the  man  got  his  request,  but  leanness  came  to 
his  soul.2 


Joseph  Parker. 


2  H.  Jeffs. 


346  LEANNESS  OF  SOUL 


III. 

The  Higher  Satisfaction. 

1.  How  are  we  to  avoid  the  creeping  over  us  of  this  insidious 
disease — leanness  of  soul  ?  The  Apostle  shall  answer : — "  Set  your 
affections  on  things  above."  We  conquer  by  the  force  and  direc- 
tion of  desire.  Desire  is,  in  the  moral  world,  like  the  law  of 
gravitation  in  the  natural  world — it  determines  man's  relations 
to  beings  and  objects  around  him.  Desire  is  the  raw  material  of 
goodness  or  wickedness,  and  thus  it  has  everything  to  do  with  the 
formation  of  character.  There  is  no  power  like  it.  Hence  the 
importance  attached  in  the  Bible  to  strong  wishes :  "  Ask,  and 
ye  shall  have " ;  "  Seek,  and  ye  shall  find " ;  "  Knock,  and  it 
shall  be  opened  unto  you."  Wishes  are  in  truth  prayers.  We 
do  not  pray  only  when  we  utter  conscious  prayers.  Every  time 
we  wish  for  anything,  our  Father  understands  our  wishes. 

2.  The  great  lesson,  then,  which  we  have  to  learn  from  this 
text  is  to  say  from  the  heart,  with  trembling  yet  earnest  love, 
"  Not  my  will  but  thine  be  done."  That  is  the  lesson  ;  but  where 
is  the  school  in  which  it  can  be  learned  ?  The  school  is  called 
Calvary.  There  is  no  other  school  in  which  this  lesson  is  taught. 
Men  may  try  to  reason  themselves  into  it ;  men  may  try  by  fine 
philosophy  to  come  to  a  point  of  resignation  that  shall  yield  them 
high  advantages ;  but  all  their  labour  will  be  in  vain.  We  must 
be  slain  on  the  Saviour's  cross ;  we  must  enter  fully  into  the  pain 
which  our  Saviour  endured ;  our  hands  and  our  feet  must  be  nailed 
to  the  accursed  yet  blessed  tree ;  the  very  last  desire  of  our  selfish- 
ness must  be  extinguished,  and  then  shall  we  come  into  the  joy 
and  the  infinite  peace  of  walking  with  God.  Whither  are  our 
desires  tending  ?  In  which  direction  are  they  bearing  us,  upwards 
or  downwards  ?  Are  we  letting  ourselves  drift  towards  some 
crisis  which  is  the  culmination  of  a  gradual  deterioration,  and 
which  may  leave  us  with  what  we  want  (or  think  that  we  want), 
at  the  cost  of  everything  which  makes  life  worth  living  ?  Is  desire 
more  and  more  concentrated  on  the  material,  the  sensuous  ?  Is 
some  accomplishment  or  some  passing  interest  utterly  possessing 
us,  and  are  we  becoming  lean  within — without  faith,  without 


PSALM  cvi.  15 


347 


sympathy,  without  self-respect,  without  generosity,  letting  others 
minister  to  us  without  giving  aught  in  return  ?  If  so,  it  may  be 
well  to  look  on  to  the  end.  A  day  and  hour  will  come  when  desire 
will  be  manifested  ;  when  the  true,  deep-seated  desire  of  each  soul 
will  be  seen.  Now  there  are  restraints  that  hinder  its  manifesta- 
tion ;  there  are  all  sorts  of  considerations  and  motives  which  are 
keeping  us  back  and  causing  us  to  hide  our  real  desires.  Then 
every  man's  true  aim  and  object,  as  well  as  every  man's  work,  will 
be  manifested ;  each  one,  freed  from  constraint,  will  turn  to  his 
own  way.  The  lips  of  the  Judge  need  not  open  to  pronounce  any 
sentence.  He  but  lifts  off  each  constraining  law,  each  limiting 
infirmity,  each  instrument  of  education,  and  the  result  speaks  for 
itself.  Each  soul,  by  its  own  inner  tendency,  seeks  its  own  place. 
Father  and  son,  brother  and  brother,  sister  and  sister,  wife  and 
husband,  each  with  the  old  habitual  restraints  lifted  off  them, 
turn  to  their  own  place — the  one  goes  by  an  inner  power  to  the 
right,  the  other  to  the  left.  It  needs  no  angel  to  guide  or  urge 
them  on.  Each  one  turns  to  his  own  desire,  to  fulness  or  leanness, 
to  heaven  or  hell. 

"  He  will  fulfil  the  desire  of  them  that  fear  him."  "  Delight 
thyself  also  in  the  Lord ;  and  he  shall  give  thee  the  desires  of 
thine  heart."  "  0  rest  in  the  Lord,  and  wait  patiently  for  him  ; 
and  he  will  give  thee  thine  heart's  desire."  It  is  true  we  have  to 
wait ;  it  is  true  that  we  have  to  find  our  way  to  rest  often  through 
many  very  humbling  disappointments ;  but  because  the  mouth  of 
the  Lord  hath  spoken,  we  may  be  sure  that  the  denial  of  our 
prayers  is  one  of  the  Divine  blessings  which  fall  to  our  lot,  and 
that  when  we  perish  in  the  outward  man  the  inward  man  is 
blessed  with  the  renewal  which  will  be  consummated  in  the 
imperishable  and  unmingled  bliss  of  heaven.  Let  us  dare  to 
desire,  to  wish,  to  ask  for  as  our  chief  good,  to  be  like  Christ ;  to 
have  reproduced  within  us  that  loveliness  of  character,  that 
tenderness  of  sympathy,  that  strength  of  endurance,  that  calm- 
ness under  suffering,  that  patient  self-possession  which  character- 
ized Him.  We  cannot  see  in  His  life  anything  but  beauty.  Let 
us  dare  to  wish,  to  long,  to  pray,  to  struggle  to  be  like  Him, 
and  He  will  give  us  our  desire,  and  send  fulness  undreamt  of — 
the  fulness  of  love,  and  faith,  and  strength,  and  patience — into  our 
inmost  soul. 


348  LEANNESS  OF  SOUL 


^  Goodness  and  happiness  are  not  one  yet ;  and  their  conflict 
oscillates  through  the  centuries  from  asceticism  on  the  one  side  to 
riot  on  the  other,  and  from  Puritanism  to  Stuart  licence.  This 
ever-recurring  oscillation  indicates  a  beautiful  truth  laid  bare  by 
our  Lord.  James  Hinton  devoted  almost  all  his  books  to  this 
conflict  of  goodness  and  happiness,  and  pointed  out  that  our  Lord 
had  solved  their  conflict.  The  human  heart  desires  happiness,  and, 
at  the  same  time,  righteousness.  A  most  wholesome  thing  it  is 
to  desire  happiness.  A  heart  that  does  not  desire  happiness  is  one 
with  which  I  should  be  very  sorry  to  have  much  to  do.  Happi- 
ness is  a  legitimate  and  a  God-implanted  desire,  of  which  men  and 
women  need  never  be  ashamed  provided  they  link  it  to  goodness. 
But  the  linking  of  it  to  goodness  is  only  to  be  done  by  using  self 
for  others'  good.  That  is  what  Hinton  points  out  as  the  sum  of 
our  Lord's  teaching  for  this  life,  and  the  conditions  which  are 
to  be  perfect  conditions  here  we  may  assume  to  be  entrance 
conditions  of  the  life  which  is  to  come.^ 


The  awakening  swan  grows  tired  at  last 
Of  weltering  pastures  where  he  feeds; 

With  wings  and  feet  behind  him  cast, 
He  cleaves  the  labyrinth  of  the  reeds. 


He  arches  out  his  sparkling  plumes, 
He  wades  and  plunges,  till  he  finds 

Beneath  his  breast  the  azure  glooms 
Where  the  great  river  brims  and  winds. 


Then,  with  white  sails  set  to  the  breeze, 
The  current  cold  about  his  feet, 

He  fares  to  those  Hesperides 

Where  morning  and  his  comrades  meet. 


Nor — since  within  his  kindling  veins 
A  livelier  ichor  stirs  at  last — 

Regrets  the  gross  and  juicy  stains, 
The  saps  and  savours  of  the  past; 

But  through  the  august  and  solemn  void 
Of  misty  waters  holds  his  way, 

By  some  ecstatic  thirst  decoyed 

Towards  raptures  of  the  radiant  day. 

1  The  Lift  of  WiLliom.  Denny,  319. 


PSALM  cvi.  15 


So  sails  the  soul,  and  cannot  rest, 

Inglorious,  in  the  marsh  of  peace, 
But  leaves  the  good,  to  seek  the  best, 

Though  all  its  calms  and  comforts  cease, — 

Though  what  it  seems  to  hold  be  lost. 

Though  that  grow  far  which  once  was  nigh, — 

By  torturing  hope  in  anguish  tossed. 
The  awakened  soul  must  sail  or  die.^ 

^  Edmund  Gosse,  In  Eusset  and  Silver, 


\ 


A  Volunteer  Army. 


3P 


Literature. 


Ball  (C.  J.),  Testimonies  to  Christ,  209. 

Critchley  (G.),  IFhen  the  Angels  have  gone  Away,  163. 

Dufle  (R.  S.),  Pleasant  Places,  120. 

Henderson  (A.),  Sermons,  9. 

Macgregor  (W.  M.),  Jesus  Christ  the  Son  of  God,  52. 

Maclaren  (A.),  Sermons  Preached  in  Manchester,  iii.  321. 

Meyer  (F.  B.),  Christian  Living,  62. 

Morrison  (G.  H.),  Flood- Tide,  282. 

Price  (A.  C),  Fifty  Sermons,  vii.  129. 

Spurgeon  (C.  H.),  New  Park  Street  Pulpit,  ii.  No.  74. 

„  „        Metropolitan  Tabernacle  Pulpit,  xlvii.  (1901),  No.  2724. 

Tipple  (S.  A.),  Days  of  Old,  200. 
Vaughan  (J.),  Sermons  to  Children,  i.  132. 

„         „    Sermons  (Brighton  Pulpit),  xxv.  (1884),  No.  1291. 


3Si 


A  Volunteer  Army. 


Thy  people  offer  themselves  willingly  in  the  day  of  thy  power : 
In  the  beauties  of  holiness,  from  the  womb  of  the  morning, 
Thou  hast  the  dew  of  thy  youth.— Ps.  ex.  3. 

1.  This  psalm  was  composed  by  some  patriotic  Hebrew  poet  on 
the  sallying  forth  of  the  king  to  war,  to  whom  he  hears  Jehovah 
promising  support  and  success  in  the  coming  campaign,  and  sees 
in  imagination  Jehovah  Himself  accompanying  the  king  as  his 
chariot  rolled  away,  driving  with  him,  seated  by  his  side,  to  the 
battle.  Fired  by  this  vision,  he  pictures  him  triumphantly 
victorious  over  his  foes,  their  power  shattered,  and  the  field 
heaped  with  their  dead  bodies ;  while  he  describes  the  enthusiasm 
of  the  people  for  the  sovereign  and  his  cause,  the  readiness  with 
which  they  flock  to  follow  him  on  his  march  to  the  frontier,  the 
great  multitude  eager  to  put  themselves  at  his  disposal  for  the 
fray ;  and  the  splendid  appearance  of  the  troops,  in  their  glittering 
armour,  like  priests  clad  in  sacred  vestments,  or  victims  decked 
for  the  sacrifice,  innumerable  and  brilliant  as  dew-drops  from  the 
womb  of  morning,  and  fresh  as  dew  in  comprising  all  the  fine 
youth,  all  the  young  blood  and  vigour  of  the  land. 

But  in  the  course  of  time  the  psalm  came  to  be  read  as  a 
prophetic  description  of  what  should  be  achieved  by  the  future 
Messiah  of  whom  the  nation  dreamt ;  to  whom,  indeed,  would  be 
the  gathering  of  the  people ;  who  would  prove  the  champion  of 
Israel's  redemption,  and  of  whose  Kingdom  and  dominion  there 
would  be  no  end.  His  name  enduring  for  ever.  His  name  continu- 
ing as  long  as  the  sun  throughout  all  generations. 

^  This  was  a  favourite  psalm  of  Luther's.    "The  110th,"  he 
says,  "  is  very  fine.    It  describes  the  kingdom  and  priesthood  of 
Jesus  Christ,  and  declares  Him  to  be  the  King  of  all  things  and 
the  intercessor  for  all  men  ;  to  whom  all  things  have  been  remitted 
PS.  xxv.-cxix. — 23 


354  A  VOLUNTEER  ARMY 


by  His  Father,  and  who  has  compassion  on  us  all.  'Tis  a  noble 
psalm ;  if  I  were  well,  I  would  endeavour  to  make  a  Commentary 
upon  it."  ^ 

2.  In  accordance  with  the  warlike  tone  of  the  whole  psalm, 
the  subjects  of  the  monarch  are  described  as  an  army.  The 
military  metaphor  comes  out  more  clearly  when  we  attach  the 
true  meaning  to  the  words,  "  in  the  day  of  thy  power " :  Calvin 
translates,  "  at  the  time  of  the  assembling  of  their  army  " — "  au 
jour  des  montres,"  "  in  the  day  of  the  review."  And  the  meaning 
is,  "  Thy  subjects  shall  be  ready  in  the  day  when  thou  dost  muster 
thy  forces,  and  set  them  in  array  for  the  war." 

L 

Patriots. 

"  Thy  people  offer  themselves  willingly  in  the  day  of  thy  power." 

1.  The  subjects  of  the  King  are  true  patriots.  There  are  no 
mercenaries  in  these  ranks,  no  pressed  men.  The  soldiers  are  all 
volunteers. 

There  are  two  kinds  of  submission  and  service.  There  is  sub- 
mission because  you  cannot  help  it,  and  there  is  submission  be- 
cause you  like  it.  There  is  a  sullen  bowing  down  beneath  the 
weight  of  a  hand  which  you  are  too  feeble  to  resist,  and  there  is  a 
glad  surrender  to  a  love  which  it  would  be  a  pain  not  to  obey. 
Some  of  us  feel  that  we  are  shut  in  by  immense  and  sovereign 
power  which  we  cannot  oppose.  And  yet,  like  some  raging  rebel 
in  a  dungeon,  or  some  fluttering  bird  in  a  cage,  we  beat  ourselves 
all  bruised  and  bloody  against  the  bars  in  vain  attempts  at 
liberty,  alternating  with  fits  of  cowed  apathy  as  we  slink  into  a 
corner  of  our  cell.  Some  of  us,  however,  feel  that  we  are  en- 
closed on  every  side  by  that  mighty  hand  which  none  can  resist, 
and  from  which  we  would  not  stray  if  we  could ;  and  we  joyfully 
hide  beneath  its  shelter,  and  gladly  obey  when  it  points.  Con- 
strained obedience  is  no  obedience.  Unless  there  be  the  glad 
surrender  of  the  will  and  heart,  there  is  no  surrender  at  all 

*  R.  E.  Protboro,  The  Psalms  in  Human  Life,  122, 


PSALM  ex.  3 


355 


God  does  not  want  compulsory  submission.  He  does  not  care  to 
rule  over  people  who  are  only  crushed  down  by  greater  power. 
He  does  not  count  that  those  serve  who  sullenly  acquiesce  be- 
cause they  dare  not  oppose.  Christ  seeks  for  no  pressed  men  in 
His  ranks.  Whosoever  does  not  enlist  joyfully  is  not  reckoned  as 
His. 

^  An  ironic  historian  sets  side  by  side  Frederick  the  Great's 
account  of  the  performance  of  his  troops  in  one  battle  and  a  home 
letter  of  a  recruit  engaged  in  it.  "  Never,"  says  Frederick,  "  have 
my  troops  done  such  marvels  in  point  of  gallantry,  never  since  it 
has  been  my  honour  to  lead  them."  And  the  soldier  tells  his 
squalid  story,  of  men  driven  into  battle  with  blows  from  sergeants' 
canes,  skulking,  when  they  could,  behind  walls,  and  taking  the 
opportunity  of  passing  through  a  vineyard  to  desert  in  scores. 
Frederick  won  many  battles,  but  he  won  them  in  spite  of  a 
detestable  system,  and  this  poet  finds  a  promise  of  triumph  for 
his  King  in  the  glad  loyalty  with  which  He  inspires  His  soldiers.^ 

2.  The  soldiers  are  not  only  volunteers ;  they  are  animated  by 
a  spirit  of  self-surrender  and  sacrifice.  The  word  here  rendered 
"  willing  "  is  employed  throughout  the  Levitical  law  for  freewill 
offerings."  It  is  a  striking  word  in  the  Hebrew.  We  have  a 
similar  idea  in  Ps.  Ixviii.  9,  where  we  are  told  that  God  has  poured 
forth  a  refreshing  rain  for  His  inheritance  because  it  is  weary. 
And  as  we  receive  the  refreshing  rain  of  God's  Holy  Spirit  from 
heaven,  in  order  that  we  may  become  a  river  pouring  out  His 
riches,  so  the  real  meaning  of  the  Hebrew  is  this,  "  Thy  people 
shall  become  a  freewill  offering  in  the  day  of  thy  power."  It  is 
in  that  host  as  it  was  in  the  army  whose  heroic  self-devotion  was 
chanted  by  Deborah  under  her  palm  tree — "  The  people  willingly 
offered  themselves."  Hence  came  courage,  devotion,  victory. 
With  their  lives  in  their  hands  they  flung  themselves  on  the  foe, 
and  nothiug  could  stand  against  the  onset  of  men  who  recked  not 
of  themselves. 

For  there  is  this  one  grand  thing  even  about  the  devilry  of 
war — the  transcendent  self-abnegation  with  which,  however  poor 
and  unworthy  may  be  the  cause,  a  man  casts  himself  away,  "  what 
time  the  foeman's  line  is  broke."  The  poorest,  most  vulgar,  most 
animal  natures  rise  for  a  moment  into  something  like  nobility,  as 

^  W.  M.  Macgregor,  Jesus  Christ  the  Son  of  God,  59. 


! 


356  A  VOLUNTEER  ARMY 

the  surge  of  the  strong  emotion  lifts  them  to  that  height  of 
heroism.    Life  is  then  most  glorious  when  it  is  given  away  for  a 
great  cause.     That  sacrifice  is  the  one  noble  and  chivalrous 
element  which  gives  interest  to  war,  the  one  thing  that  can  be  ! 
disentangled  from  its  hideous  associations,  and  can  be  transferred  | 
to  higher  regions  of  life.    That  spirit  of  lofty  consecration  and  j 
utter  self-forgetfulness  must  be  ours,  if  we  would  be  Christ's  | 
soldiers.    Our  obedience  will  then  be  glad  when  we  feel  the  force  I 
of,  and  yield  to,  that  gentle  persuasive  entreaty,  "  I  beseech  you 
therefore,  brethren,  by  the  mercies  of  God,  that  ye  present  your 
bodies  a  living  sacrifice." 

1  "  I  raised  such  men,"  said  Cromwell,  "  as  had  the  fear  of 
God  before  them,  as  made  some  conscience  of  what  they  did ;  and 
from  that  day  forward,  I  must  say  they  were  never  beaten." 

^  To  be  true  to  himself,  to  renounce  nothing  which  he  knew 
to  be  good  and  yet  bring  all  things  captive  to  the  obedience  of 
Christ,  was  the  problem  before  him.  He  hesitated  long  before  he 
could  believe  that  such  a  solution  was  possible.  His  heart  was 
with  this  rich,  attractive  world  of  human  life,  in  the  multiplicity 
and  wealth  of  its  illustrations,  until  it  was  revealed  to  him  that  it 
assumed  a  richer  but  a  holier  aspect  when  seen  in  the  light  of 
God.  But  to  this  end,  he  must  submit  his  will  to  the  Divine  will  | 
in  the  spirit  of  absolute  obedience.  Here  the  struggle  was  deep 
and  prolonged.  It  was  a  moral  struggle  mainly,  not  primarily 
intellectual  or  emotional.  He  feared  that  he  should  lose  some- 
thing in  sacrificing  his  own  will  to  God's  will.  How  the  gulf  was 
bridged  he  could  not  tell.  He  wrote  down  as  one  of  the  first  of 
the  texts  on  which  he  should  preach,  "  Thy  people  shall  be  willing 
in  the  day  of  thy  power,"  with  the  comment  that  "  willingness  is 
the  first  Christian  step."  Thus  the  conversion  of  Phillips  Brooks 
becomes  a  representative  process  of  his  age.  So  far  as  the  age 
has  been  great,  through  science  or  through  literature,  its  greatness 
passed  into  his  soul.  The  weakness  of  his  age,  its  sentimentalism, 
its  fatalism,  he  overcame  in  himself  when  he  made  the  absolute 
surrender  of  his  will  to  God.  All  that  he  had  hitherto  loved  and 
cherished  as  the  highest,  instead  of  being  lost,  was  given  back  to 
him  in  fuller  measure.  To  the  standard  he  had  now  raised  there 
rallied  great  convictions  and  blessed  experiences,  the  sense  of  the 
unity  of  life,  the  harmony  of  the  whole  creation,  the  consciousness 
of  joy  in  being  alive,  the  conviction  that  heaven  is  the  goal  of 
earth.^ 

*  Phillips  Brooks :  Memories  of  his  Life,  by  A.  V.  G.  Allen,  82. 


PSALM  ex.  3 


357 


II. 

Patriot-Pkiests. 

*'  In  the  beauties  of  holiness." 

The  phrase  "in  the  beauty  of  holiness  "  is  frequently  used  for 
;he  sacerdotal  garments,  the  holy  festal  attire  of  the  priests  of  the 
Lord.    So  the  soldiers  are  priests  as  well  as  patriots. 

1.  The  King  and  Leader  is  Himself  a  Priest  of  God's  making, 
mother  Melchizedek.  In  different  ages  of  the  world  there  have 
)een  men  in  whom  a  certain  native  priestliness  has  been  apparent, 
nen  born  to  bring  others  into  the  secrets  of  God,  and  seeming  to 
leed  no  introduction  or  furtherance  themselves ;  men  who,  in  the 
Scots  phrase,  are  "  far  ben,"  for  they  always,  with  unveiled  face, 
;ee  God.  It  is  their  task  to  make  the  hidden  things  apprehensible 
;o  those  who  belong  to  the  rough  world  outside.  And  God's  King, 
ivhen  He  comes,  will  be  a  priest  of  that  kind,  whose  priesthood  is 
I  matter  of  native  endowment  and  not  of  human  ordination. 

The  mediaeval  emperor  was  a  deacon  in  the  Eoman  Church, 
ust  as  the  pope,  on  his  side,  was  a  great  secular  prince.  In 
[srael,  too,  the  king  had  something  of  priestly  rank.  But  here  is 
10  such  fictitious  dignity.  "  Thou  art  a  priest  of  my  making," 
5ays  God,  "  another  Melchizedek."  Professor  Davidson  comments 
m  the  picture  which  is  given  us  of  Melchizedek — without  father, 
»vithout  mother,  without  descent.  "  He  passes  over  the  stage  a 
dng,  a  priest,  living ;  that  sight  of  him  is  all  we  ever  get.  He  is 
ike  a  portrait  having  always  the  same  qualities,  presenting 
ilways  the  same  aspect,  looking  down  on  us  always  with  the  same 
jyes,  which  turn  and  follow  us  wherever  we  may  stand — always 
:oyal,  always  priestly,  always  individual,  and  neither  receiving  nor 
mparting  what  he  is,  but  being  all  in  virtue  of  himself." 

The  conquering  King  whom  the  psalm  hymns  is  a  Priest  for 
iver ;  and  He  is  followed  by  an  army  of  priests.  The  soldiers  are 
gathered  in  the  day  of  the  muster,  with  high  courage  and  willing 
levotion,  ready  to  fling  away  their  lives ;  but  they  are  clad  not  in 
nail,  but  in  priestly  robes,  like  those  who  wait  before  the  altar  rather 
-ban  like  those  who  plunge  into  the  fight,  like  those  who  compassed 


353  A  VOLUNTEER  ARMY 


Jericho  with  the  ark  for  their  standard  and  the  trumpets  for  all 
their  weapons.  We  can  scarcely  fail  to  remember  the  words  which 
echo  these  and  interpret  them.  The  armies  which  were  in  heaven 
followed  Him  on  white  horses,  clothed  in  fine  linen,  white  and  clean. 

Christina  Eossetti  comments  on  the  strangeness  of  such 
armour  against  cut  of  sword  and  thrust  of  spear.  But  the 
suggestion  is  that  the  soldiers  have  one  heart  with  their  Leader, 
and  are  great  in  consecration  like  Himself.  They  go  out  after 
Him  where  hard  blows  are  struck,  where  there  is  turmoil  and 
shouting  and  the  burden  of  the  weary  day,  but  they  go  as  priests. 
That  warfare  which  belongs  to  the  extension  of  the  Kingdom  of 
God  calls  for  services  which  may  often  be  sordid  and  ugly  and 
painful ;  but  when  they  are  rightly  rendered  they  are  as  sacred 
and  as  acceptable  as  any  incense  offering  in  the  dim  seclusion  of  a 
temple.  The  one  priestly  sacrifice  worth  speaking  of  which  men 
can  render  is  the  offering  of  a  heart  given  willingly  to  the  Divine 
service:  and  the  cause  is  sure  to  prevail  which  can  count  on 
volunteers  of  that  complexion. 

^  Dr.  Butler,  Master  of  Trinity  College,  Cambridge,  writing 
of  Keith-Falconer,  who  had  been  one  of  his  pupils  at  Harrow, 
says:  "I  do  not  think  our  dear  friend  and  I  had  any  further 
communication  with  each  other  till  the  end  of  last  year  (1886), 
when  I  received  from  him  at  Davos-Platz  a  most  kind  letter  of 
congratulation  on  my  appointment  to  the  Mastership  of  Trinity. 
He  told  me  also  of  the  plan  which  he  had  formed  for  going  to 
Aden,  and  there  employing  his  knowledge  of  Arabic  for  missionary 
purposes.  The  result  of  this  generous  enterprise  we  know  but 
too  well.  The  work  was  scarcely  begun  before  it  reached  its 
earthly  end.  To  those  who  believe  in  the  abiding  results  of 
devotion  to  the  cause  and  the  Person  of  Christ,  his  short  life  will 
not  seem  a  failure.  His  image  will  remain  fresh  in  the  hearts  of 
many  as  of  a  man  exceptionally  noble  and  exceptionally  winning, 
recalling  to  them  their  own  highest  visions  of  unselfish  service  to 
God  and  man,  and  helping  them  to  hold  fast  the  truth  that  in  the 
spiritual  world  nothing  but  self-sacrifice  is  permanently  fruitful, 
and  that  the  seed  of  a  truly  Christian  life  is  never  quickened 
except  it  die."  ^ 

2.  The  priestly  attire  suggests  that  the  great  power  which  we 
are  to  wield  in  our  Christian  warfare  is  character.    Purity  of 

*  R.  Sinker,  Memorials  of  the  Hon.  Ion  Keith- Falconer,  28.  -M 


PSALM  ex.  3 


359 


heart  and  life,  transparent  simple  goodness,  manifest  in  men's 
sight — these  will  arm  us  against  dangers,  and  these  will  bring  our 
brethren  glad  captives  to  our  Lord.  We  serve  Him  best,  and 
advance  His  Kingdom  most,  when  the  habit  of  our  souls  is  that 
righteousness  with  which  He  invests  our  nakedness.  Be  like  your 
Lord,  and  as  His  soldiers  you  will  conquer,  and  as  His  priests  you 
will  win  some  to  His  love  and  fear.  Nothing  else  will  avail 
without  that.  Without  that  dress  no  man  finds  a  place  in  the 
ranks. 

^  "  I  have  known  many  a  man,"  says  Thoreau,  "  who  pretended 
to  be  a  Christian  ;  but  it  was  ridiculous,  for  he  had  no  genius  for 
it."  This  poet  was  persuaded  that  his  King  would  go  far  because 
of  the  temper  of  the  people.  "  They  offer  themselves  willingly ; 
in  holy,  beautiful  garments  they  come,  fresh,  young,  countless  like 
dew  at  the  dawn."  ^ 

^  Turn  your  energies  towards  your  moral  cultivation.  In  doing 
so  you  will  accumulate  imperishable  riches.  All  that  your  worldly 
care  can  bring  will  be  the  doubtful  possession  of  riches  of  doubtful 
value.  In  the  possession  of  the  moral  wealth  of  a  noble  and 
disciplined  character,  you  possess  that  which  can  neither  wither 
nor  be  stolen.  What  we  have  we  must  leave  at  the  threshold  of 
the  grave.  What  we  are  goes  with  us  into  the  other  world. 
Eiches  will  drop  from  our  dying  hand  into  the  grasp  of  others. 
Character  passes  with  us  into  the  presence  of  God.  Character  is 
everything.  This,  rather  than  worldly  riches,  is  the  true  end  of 
life.    The  perfecting  of  this  is  the  true  purpose  of  God  in  life.^ 

^  Few  things  tell  on  character  more  surely  and  precisely  than 
the  goal  on  which  the  heart  is  set  and  the  temper  in  which  that 
goal  is  sought.  And  certainly  the  Christian  character,  as  it 
appears  in  Christ-like  lives,  does  not  look  at  all  as  though  it  had 
been  formed  and  fostered  and  determined  by  a  mercenary  attention 
to  a  selfish  aim.  For  the  faculties  and  the  capacity  that  grow  in 
those  who  try  to  be  true  to  Christ  in  daily  life  are  strikingly  ill- 
suited  for  the  opportunities  of  enjoyment  which  might  be  imagined 
in  a  heaven  of  selfishness.  Christians  do  not  grow  in  the  capacity 
for  selfish  pleasure,  nor  attain  an  exceptional  power  of  relishing  to 
the  utmost  a  separate  and  individual  gratification.  The  faculty 
which  they  develop  is  the  faculty  of  self-denial;  of  glad,  un- 
hindered self-forgetf ulness  for  others'  sake ;  of  delighting  in  good- 
ness and  eliciting  what  is  best  in  others ;  of  simple,  cheerful, 
unclouded  self-surrender.    These,  and  such  as  these,  are  the 


W.  M.  Macgregor. 


'  Bishop  Boyd  Carpenter. 


36o  A  VOLUNTEER  ARMY 


powers  that  accrue  to  those  who  choose  the  Christian  life ;  and  it 
is  strange  if  the  way  along  which  they  are  acquired  is  a  way  of 
self-seeking ;  strange  if,  in  striving  towards  a  paradise  of  selfish 
pleasure,  there  is  formed  a  character  which  would  be  as  wretched 
there  as  a  selfish  character  in  the  heaven  of  the  saints.  Surely  it 
is  a  very  different  sort  of  aim  and  quest  that  is  betrayed  in  the 
development  of  the  Christian  character  and  in  the  lines  on  which 
it  presses  forward ;  its  preparation  through  the  discipline  of  this 
life  is  for  something  else  than  what  is  here  called  pleasure  or 
success  ;  the  faculties  that  are  strengthened  with  its  strength  must 
have  a  work  surpassing  all  our  thoughts,  and  the  capacity  it 
brings  can  never  be  satisfied  with  aught  that  is  created.  For,  in 
truth,  the  Christian  character  prophesies  of  this — that  God  has 
made  us  for  Himself ;  and  that  there  is  neither  rest,  nor  goal,  nor 
joy  for  man,  save  in  His  love.^ 

III. 

Patriot-Priests  in  Perpetual  Youth. 

"  From  the  womb  of  the  morning,  thou  hast  the  dew  of  thy  youth." 

Alexander  Henderson,  expounding  this  passage,  says :  "  The 
words  are  somewhat  obscure  even  to  the  learned  ear,  but  look  to 
the  133rd  Psalm,  and  there  ye  will  see  a  place  to  help  to  clear 
them.  Always  (however)  observe  here,  *  from  the  womb  of  the 
morning,  thou  hast  the  dew  of  thy  youth,'  that  as  in  a  May 
morning,  when  there  is  no  extremity  of  heat,  the  dew  falls  so  thick 
that  all  the  fields  are  covered  with  it,  and  it  falls  in  such  a  secret 
manner  that  none  sees  it  fall,  so  the  Lord,  in  the  day  of  His 
power,  He  shall  multiply  His  people,  and  He  shall  multiply  them 
in  a  secret  manner ;  so  that  it  is  marvellous  to  the  world,  that 
once  there  should  seem  to  be  so  few  or  none  of  them,  and  then 
incontinent  He  should  make  them  to  be  through  all  estates." 

1.  The  "  dew  of  thy  youth "  has  often  been  understood  to 
mean  the  fresh  youthful  energy  attributed  by  the  psalm  to  the 
Priest-King.  It  has  been  suggested  that  the  historical  setting 
of  the  psalm  is  to  be  found  in  the  Maccabean  period.  The  heroic 
Judas  had  fallen  in  battle.    Only  one  Maccabee  remained,  an 

*  Francis  Paget,  Studies  in  the  Cliristian  Character. 


PSALM  ex.  3 


361 


elder  brother,  Simon,  who  had  been  passed  over  till  this  time — 
a  great  man  and  a  wise  one,  it  would  seem,  who  had  deliberately 
and  unselfishly  stood  aside  while  his  younger  brethren  had  been 
doing  their  mighty  work.  He  had  been  their  lieutenant,  counsellor, 
helper  in  every  way.  "  The  father  of  them  all "  was  the  affection- 
ate title  which  he  bore  among  them ;  the  organizer  and  statesman 
of  the  valiant  band ;  one  of  those  strong,  keen,  silent  souls  who 
are  content  to  work  in  obscurity,  so  that  the  grand  object  is 
obtained,  but  who  often  have  more  real  power  than  those  who 
stand  glittering  in  the  front.  But  now  his  time  was  come — come 
when  he  was  apparently  more  than  sixty  years  of  age.  He  rose 
to  the  occasion;  he  took  the  critical  and  dangerous  place.  He 
went  up  to  Jerusalem,  stood  among  the  excited  and  trembling 
multitude,  and  said :  "  Ye  yourselves  know  what  great  things  I 
and  my  brethren  and  my  father's  house  have  done  for  the  laws 
and  the  sanctuary.  You  know  the  battles  and  troubles  we  have 
seen,  by  reason  whereof  all  my  brethren  are  slain  for  Israel's  sake, 
and  I  am  left  alone.  Now  therefore,  be  it  far  from  me  that  I 
should  spare  mine  own  life  in  any  time  of  trouble,  for  I  am  no 
better  than  my  brethren.  I  will  defend  my  nation  and  the 
sanctuary,  and  our  wives  and  our  children,  though  all  the  heathen 
be  gathered  together  to  destroy  us  for  very  malice." 

The  people  gazed  upon  the  grand  old  man.  They  watched  his 
kindling  eye,  his  martial  bearing;  they  saw  the  fires  of  a  still 
youthful  spirit  burning  in  the  aged  frame,  and  they  answered  with 
a  loud  voice,  "  Thou  shalt  be  our  leader.  Fight  thou  our  battles, 
and  whatsoever  thou  commandest  us,  we  will  do."  Then  they 
brought  him  into  the  temple,  clothed  him  in  the  sacred  robes, 
placed  the  tiara  upon  his  head,  and  saluted  him  as  the  great 
Priest-King  of  Israel:  and  it  may  be  that  this  110th  Psalm 
preserves  the  memory  of  the  coronation  anthem  sung  at  that 
service  in  the  temple  when  the  old  man  with  the  brave  young 
heart  inside  him  stood  before  the  awestruck  multitudes  and  took 
the  perilous  honour  of  the  lofty  place.  A  joy-shout  of  the  people 
finds  its  echo  in  the  text,  "  From  the  breaking  of  the  morning, 
thou  hast  the  dew  of  thy  youth  " ;  that  is  to  say,  "  Though  aged,  it 
is  upon  thee  still." 

^  Certain  leaders  in  their  young  days  have  led  their  troops  to 
battle,  and,  by  the  loudness  of  their  voice,  and  the  strength  of 


362  A  VOLUNTEER  ARMY 


their  bodies,  have  inspired  their  men  with  courage ;  but  the  old 
warrior  hath  his  hair  sown  with  grey;  he  begins  to  be  decrepit, 
and  no  longer  can  lead  men  to  battle.  It  is  not  so  with  Jesus 
Christ.  He  has  still  the  dew  of  His  youth.  The  same  Christ 
who  led  His  troops  to  battle  in  His  early  youth  leads  them  now. 
The  arm  which  smote  the  sinner  with  His  word  smites  now  ;  it  is 
as  unpalsied  as  it  was  before.  The  eye  which  looked  upon  His 
friends  with  gladness,  and  upon  His  foemen  with  a  glance  most 
stern  and  high — that  same  eye  is  regarding  us  now,  undimmed, 
like  that  of  Moses.    He  has  the  dew  of  His  youth.^ 

If  As  I  witness  the  energies  of  nature,  I  feel  that  the  heart 
that  fashioned  it  was  young.  There  is  no  sign  of  age  about  crea- 
tion. There  is  no  trace  of  the  weariness  of  years.  It  is  inspired 
with  an  abounding  energy  that  tells  me  of  a  fresh  and  youthful 
mind.  Christ  may  have  lived  from  everlasting  ages  before  the 
moment  of  creation  came ;  but  the  eternal  morning  was  still  upon 
His  brow  when  He  conceived  and  bodied  out  the  world.  There 
are  the  powers  of  youth  in  it.  There  are  the  energies  of  opening 
life.    "  Thou  hast  the  dew  of  thy  youth."  2 

2.  We  may  however  take  "  youth "  to  be  a  collective  noun, 
equivalent  to  young  men.  In  that  case  the  army  is  described  as 
a  host  of  young  warriors,  led  forth  in  their  fresh  strength  and 
countless  numbers  and  gleaming  beauty,  like  the  dew  of  the 
morning.  Did  you  never  see  the  dew-drops  glistening  on  the 
earth  ?  and  did  you  never  ask,  "  Whence  came  these  ?  How  came 
they  here  so  infinite  in  number,  so  lavishly  scattered  everywhere, 
so  pure  and  brilliant  ? "  Nature  whispered  the  answer,  "  They 
came  from  the  womb  of  the  morning."  So  God's  people  will  come 
forth  as  noiselessly,  as  mysteriously,  as  divinely,  as  if  they  came 
"from  the  womb  of  the  morning,"  like  the  dew-drops.  Science 
has  laboured  to  discover  the  origin  of  dew,  and  perhaps  has 
guessed  it ;  but  to  the  Eastern,  one  of  the  greatest  riddles  was, 
Out  of  whose  womb  came  the  dew  ?  Who  is  the  mother  of  those 
pearly  drops  ?  Now,  so  will  God's  people  come  mysteriously. 
Again,  the  dew-drops — who  made  them  ?  Do  kings  and  princes 
rise  up  and  hold  their  sceptres,  and  bid  the  clouds  shed  tears,  or 
affright  them  to  weeping  by  the  beating  of  the  drum  ?  Do  armies 
march  to  the  battle  to  force  the  sky  to  give  up  its  treasure,  and 
scatter  its  diamonds  lavishly  ?    No ;  God  speaks ;  He  whispers  in 

»  C.  H.  Spurgeon.  ^  G.  H.  Morrison,  Flood-Tide,  286. 


i 


PSALM  ex.  3 


363 


the  ears  of  nature,  and  it  weeps  for  joy  at  the  glad  news  that  the 
morning  is  coming.  God  does  it;  there  is  no  apparent  agency 
employed,  no  thunder,  no  lightning;  God  has  done  it.  That  is 
how  God's  people  shall  be  saved;  they  come  forth  from  the 
"womb  of  the  morning";  divinely  called,  divinely  brought,  divinely 
blessed,  divinely  numbered,  divinely  scattered  over  the  entire 
surface  of  the  globe,  divinely  refreshing  to  the  world,  they  proceed 
from  the  "  womb  of  the  morning." 

^  When  you  go  out,  delighted,  into  the  dew  of  the  morning, 
have  you  ever  considered  why  it  is  so  rich  upon  the  grass ; — why 
it  is  not  upon  the  trees  ?  It  is  partly  on  the  trees,  but  yet  your 
memory  of  it  will  be  always  chiefly  of  its  gleam  upon  the  lawn. 
On  many  trees  you  will  find  there  is  none  at  all.  I  cannot  follow 
out  here  the  many  inquiries  connected  with  this  subject,  but, 
broadly  remember  the  branched  trees  are  fed  chiefly  by  rain, — the 
unbranched  ones  by  dew,  visible  or  invisible ;  that  is  to  say,  at  all 
events  by  moisture  which  they  can  gather  for  themselves  out  of 
the  air ;  or  else  by  streams  and  springs.  Hence  the  division  of 
the  verse  of  the  song  of  Moses :  "  My  doctrine  shall  drop  as  the 
rain ;  my  speech  shall  distil  as  the  dew :  as  the  small  rain  upon 
the  tender  herb,  and  as  the  showers  upon  the  grass."  ^ 

^  Until  I  heard  from  my  friend  Mr.  Tyrwhitt  of  the  cold  felt 
at  night  in  camping  on  Sinai,  I  could  not  understand  how  deep 
the  feeling  of  the  Arab,  no  less  than  the  Greek,  must  have  been 
respecting  the  Divine  gift  of  the  dew, — nor  with  what  sense  of 
thankfulness  for  miraculous  blessing  the  question  of  J ob  would  be 
uttered,  "  The  hoary  frost  of  heaven,  who  hath  gendered  it  ? " 
Then  compare  the  first  words  of  the  blessing  of  Isaac :  "  God  give 
thee  of  the  dew  of  heaven,  and  of  the  fatness  of  earth  " ;  and, 
again,  the  first  words  of  the  song  of  Moses:  "Give  ear,  oh  ye 
heavens, — for  my  speech  shall  distil  as  the  dew  " ;  and  you  will 
see  at  once  why  this  heavenly  food  (manna)  was  made  to  shine 
clear  in  the  desert,  like  an  enduring  of  its  dew ; — Divine  remaining 
for  continual  need.    Frozen,  as  the  Alpine  snow — pure  for  ever.^ 

3.  The  soldiers  of  this  King  retain  their  youth.  He  who  has 
fellowship  with  God,  and  lives  in  the  constant  reception  of  the 
supernatural  life  and  grace  which  come  from  Jesus  Christ, 
possesses  the  secret  of  perpetual  youth.  The  world  ages  us,  time 
and  physical  changes  tell  on  us  all,  and  the  strength  which  belongs 

*  Ruskin,  Proser2nna,  i.  oliap.  iii.  §  22. 
'  Ruskin,  Deucalion,  i.  chap.  vii.  §  12. 


364  A  VOLUNTEER  ARMY 


to  the  life  of  nature  ebbs  away ;  but  the  life  eternal  is  subject  to 
no  laws  of  decay  and  owes  nothing  to  the  external  world.  So  we 
may  be  ever  young  in  heart  and  spirit.  It  is  possible  for  a  man 
to  carry  the  freshness,  the  buoyancy,  the  elastic  cheerfulness,  the 
joyful  hope  of  his  earliest  days,  right  on  through  the  monotony  of 
middle-aged  maturity,  and  even  into  old  age  shadowed  by  the  long 
reflection  of  the  tombs  which  the  setting  sun  casts  over  the  path. 
It  is  possible  for  us  to  grow  younger  as  we  grow  older,  because  we 
drink  more  full  draughts  of  the  fountain  of  life,  and  so  to  have 
to  say  at  the  last,  "  Thou  hast  kept  the  good  wine  until  now." 
"  Even  the  youths  shall  faint  and  be  weary,  and  the  young  men 
shall  utterly  fall.  But  they  that  wait  upon  the  Lord  shall  renew 
their  strength."  If  we  live  near  Christ,  and  draw  our  life  from 
Him,  then  we  may  blend  the  hopes  of  youth  with  the  experience 
and  memory  of  age  ;  be  at  once  calm  and  joyous,  wise  and  strong, 
preserving  the  blessedness  of  each  stage  of  life  into  that  which 
follows,  and  thus  at  last  possessing  the  sweetness  and  the  good  of 
all  at  once.  We  may  not  only  bear  fruit  in  old  age,  but  have 
buds,  blossoms,  and  fruit — the  varying  product  and  adornment 
of  every  stage  of  life  united  in  our  characters. 

A  man  is  not  old,  however  hoary  and  bent,  who  is  conversing, 
as  Emerson  says,  with  what  is  above  him,  with  the  religious  eye  ' 
looking  upward,  and  abandoned  the  while  with  delight  to  the 
inspirations  flowing  in  from  all  sides.  A  man  is  not  old  in 
whom  the  faculty  of  imagination  is  undecayed,  who  throbs  with 
sympathy  as  eager  and  strong  as  ever  for  whatsoever  is  just  and 
lovely  and  pure  and  true ;  whose  mind,  still  responsive  and  aspir- 
ing, is  fully  open  to  new  thoughts  and  new  ideas,  and  cherishes 
dreams  of  the  ideal ;  upon  whom  no  weight  of  custom  or  of  habit 
lies  so  heavily  that  he  cannot  move  out  of  grooves  under  the 
direction  of  some  felt  better  way,  or  who  carries  with  him  the 
optimism  which,  without  hiding  its  face  from  the  dark  and  ugly 
facts  of  existence,  can  front  them  smilingly,  and  sing  its  song  in 
defiance  of  them,  because  of  faith  in  humanity  and  trust  in  the 
divine  purpose  of  the  Universe.  A  man  is  not  old,  who  is  at  one 
with  Michael  Angelo  when,  just  before  he  died  on  the  verge  of 
ninety,  he  carved  an  allegorical  figure,  and  inscribed  on  it  in  large 
letters,  "  Still  learning,"  or  whose  heart  echoes  Kobert  Browning, 
when  he  sang : 

J 


PSALM  ex.  3 


365 


Grow  old  along  with  me ! 

The  best  is  yet  to  be, 
The  last  of  life,  for  which  the  first  was  made: 

Our  times  are  in  His  hand 

Who  saith  "A  whole  I  planned, 
Youth  shows  but  half ;  trust  God :  see  all  nor  be  afraid ! " 

^  1st  December  1895.  A  pleasant  party  at  York  House.  The 
conversation  straying  to  Watts,  Miss  Lawless,  who  was  sitting  on 
one  side  of  me,  mentioned  that  he  had  said  to  her :  "  I  think  I  am 
quite  accurate  in  telling  you  that  I  saw  the  sun  rise  every  day 
last  summer,"  and  Mrs.  Tyrrell,  who  was  sitting  on  my  other  side, 
told  us  that  he  had  said  to  her :  "  I  am  seventy-eight,  and  I  hope 
still  to  do  my  best  work."  ^ 

4.  The  soldier  of  the  cross  should  exercise  in  the  world  a 
gracious  refreshing  influence,  like  the  dew.  The  dew,  formed  in 
the  silence  of  the  darkness  while  men  sleep,  falling  as  willingly 
on  a  bit  of  dead  wood  as  anywhere,  hanging  its  pearls  on  every 
poor  spike  of  grass,  and  dressing  everything  on  which  it  lies  with 
strange  beauty,  each  separate  globule  tiny  and  evanescent,  but  each 
flashing  back  the  light,  and  each  a  perfect  sphere,  feeble  one  by 
one,  but  united  mighty  to  make  the  pastures  of  the  wilderness 
rejoice — so,  created  in  silence  by  an  unseen  influence,  feeble  when 
taken  in  detail  but  strong  in  their  myriads,  glad  to  occupy  the 
lowliest  place,  and  each  "  bright  with  something  of  celestial  light," 
Christian  men  and  women  are  to  be  in  the  midst  of  many  people 
as  dew  from  the  Lord. 

^  The  personal  influence  of  Henry  Bradshaw  (the  librarian  at 
Cambridge  University)  was  extraordinary.  It  was  not  gained  by 
any  arts,  nor  did  he  ever  manifest  the  slightest  wish  to  interfere  or  to 
exercise  influence.  One  just  knew  him  to  be  a  man  of  guileless  life, 
laborious,  high-principled,  incapable  of  any  sort  of  meanness  or 
malice.  To  love  is  to  understand  everything,  says  the  French 
proverb.  It  is  not  easy  really  to  improve  people  by  scolding 
them  or  lecturing  them,  but  if  one  knows  that  a  generous,  un- 
suspicious, high-minded  man  has  a  real  affection  for  one,  it  is 
impossible  not  to  be  restrained  by  the  thought  from  acting  in  a 
way  that  he  would  disapprove.  Bradshaw's  influence  over  the 
men  he  knew  was  stronger  than  the  influence  of  any  other  man 
at  Cambridge.    But  his  affection  was  sisterly — if  one  can  use  the 

1  M.  E,  Grant  Duff,  Notes  from  a  Diary,  1892-95,  ii.  290. 


366  A  VOLUNTEER  ARMY 


word — rather  than  paternal.  He  was  fond  of  little  demonstra- 
tions of  affection,  would  pat  and  stroke  one's  hand  as  he  talked, 
and  yet  there  was  never  the  least  shadow  of  sentimentality  about 
it.  I  have  never  heard  any  one  suggest  that  there  was  anything 
weak  or  unmanly  about  his  tenderness.  It  was  preserved  from 
that  by  his  critical  judgment,  his  excellent  sense,  his  power  of 
saying  the  most  incisive  things,  and  the  irony  which,  however 
lambent,  had  got  a  very  clear  cutting  edge,  and  which  he  was 
always  ready  to  use  if  there  was  occasion.  If  any  one  traded  on 
the  affection  of  Bradshaw  or  counted  on  indulgence,  he  was  sure 
to  be  instantly  and  kindly  snubbed.  It  was  more  that  there  was 
an  atmosphere  of  intimacy  and  confidence  in  one's  relations  with 
him,  which  pervaded  the  time  spent  in  his  company  as  with 
fragrant  summer  air.^ 

^  When  love  has  made  the  most  of  the  man  himself  it  over- 
flows to  bless  others.  Christ's  disciples  are  not  here  to  be 
ministered  unto,  but  to  minister.  Eeligion,  says  Christ,  is  love, 
and  love  is  gentle  toward  those  with  hollow  eyes  and  famine- 
stricken  faces.  Love  is  kindly  toward  those  who  have  a  tragedy 
written  in  the  sharpened  countenance.  Love  is  patient  toward 
those  who  have  lost  fidelity  as  a  man  loses  a  golden  coin ;  who 
have  lost  morality  as  one  who  flounders  in  the  Alpine  drifts. 
And  this  religion  of  love  takes  on  a  thousand  modern  forms.  If 
it  is  not  rowing  out  against  the  darkness  and  storm,  as  did  Grace 
Darling,  to  save  the  shipwrecked,  it  is  going  forth  to  those  tossed 
upon  life's  billows,  to  succour  and  to  save.  For  love  is  making 
the  individual  life  beautiful,  making  the  home  beautiful,  and 
will  at  last  make  the  Church  and  State  beautiful.  Men  will  not 
bow  down  to  crowned  power  nor  philosophic  power  nor  aesthetic 
power ;  but  in  the  presence  of  a  great  soul,  filled  with  vigour  of 
inspiration  and  glowing  with  love,  man  will  do  obeisance.  There 
is  no  force  upon  earth  like  Divine  love  in  the  heart  of  man,  and 
at  last  that  force  will  sweeten  and  regenerate  society 

^  A.  C.  Benson,  The  Leaves  of  the  Tree,  225. 
2  N.  D.  HDlis,  The  Investment  of  Infiv^nce,  274. 


The  Brook  in  the  Way. 


367 


Literature. 


Chadwick  (G.  A.),  Pilate's  Gift,  266. 
Hanks  (W.  P.),  The  Eternal  Witness,  81. 
Hunter  (J.),  The  Angels  of  God,  27. 
Jerdan  (C),  Gospel  Milk  and  Honey,  245. 
Jones  (J.  D.),  The  Unfettered  Word,  145. 
Norton  (J.  N.),  Old  Paths,  231. 
Piggott  (W.  C),  The  Imperishable  Word,  190. 
Smellie  (A.),  Service  and  Inspiration^  49. 


3^8 


The  Brook  in  the  Way. 


He  shall  drink  of  the  brook  in  the  way : 
Therefore  shall  he  lift  up  the  head.— Ps.  ex.  7. 

1.  This  jubilant  and  magnificent  psalm  opens  with  a  passage  which 
was  taken  possession  of  by  the  Apostles,  in  the  name  of  their  Lord, 
so  long  ago  that  it  has  lost  any  suggestion  of  foreignness;  and 
just  as  some  of  our  older  colonies  have  acquired  a  look  of  England 
overseas,  so  do  we  welcome  these  verses  when  we  come  upon 
them,  as  if  they  were  an  outlying  tract  of  the  New  Testament. 
They  give  a  description  of  the  King,  set  at  God's  right  hand,  a 
Priest  for  ever,  which  in  itself  is  great ;  and  yet,  in  the  writer's 
view,  it  was  only  a  preparation  for  something  else.  These  things 
were  spoken  of  Him  that  faith  might  have  a  chance ;  for  what 
possessed  the  poet  was  not  that  his  King  was  great  and  highly 
favoured,  but  that  a  King  so  great  would  go  far  and  that  of  His 
conquests  there  would  be  no  end.  It  is  through  getting  big 
thoughts  of  the  King  that  men  are  prepared  to  cherish  worthier 
expectations  with  regard  to  the  Kingdom. 

2.  The  poet  first  shows  the  kingship  at  rest,  as  it  is  in  its 
dignity,  created  and  secured  by  God,  and  when  his  heart  is  full 
of  that  he  goes  on  to  show  the  kingship  in  action.  A  royalty 
based  upon  the  will  of  God,  which,  indeed,  is  nothing  else  than 
an  instrument  of  that  will,  cannot  but  make  way ;  present  and 
future  have  nothing  in  them  to  withstand  it,  and  thus  it  will  go 
farther  and  farther,  passing  out  at  last  beyond  the  imagination  of 
men.  That  is  the  poet's  idea,  which  a  rhetorician  would  have 
expressed  in  some  resounding  phrase ;  but  as  an  artist  this  man 
had  no  liking  for  vague  words  without  any  picture  in  them.  He 
wanted  men  to  feel  that  the  King  beyond  their  sight  was  pushing 
His  conquests  still,  and  he  manages  that  by  a  quaint  touch  of 
imagination.  The  King,  urging  on  His  enemies  in  their  flight, 
PS.  xxv.-cxix. — 24 


370         THE  BROOK  IN  THE  WAY 


stops  for  a  moment  to  drink,  and  then  He  passes  off  the  scene  with 
head  uplifted,  fresh  as  when  the  battle-day  began.  There  He  is — 
the  true  King,  God's  gift  to  men,  travelling  out  beyond  our  sight, 
on  always  vaster  enterprises,  and  without  a  sign  of  flagging 
strength.  That  fired  the  poet's  soul,  and  it  should  live  with  us 
as  the  scope  and  outlook  of  the  psalm. 

I. 

The  Ideal  King. 

1.  Who  is  this  King  and  Captain  that  the  poet  celebrates  ? 
The  answer  must  be  that  we  have  here  not  a  portrait  but  an 
ideal,  which  embodies  the  dream  of  those  who  trusted  that  God 
would  give  them  one  day  a  ruler  who  should  be  all  that  a  king 
can  be  to  men.  The  poet  follows  this  warrior  priest,  this  priestly 
king,  to  the  war ;  he  sees  him  winning  victory  after  victory,  until 
the  earth  seems  filled  with  the  slaughtered  bodies  of  his  foes. 
But  he  grows  weary  and  tired  in  the  conflict ;  his  tongue  cleaves 
to  his  mouth  for  thirst ;  his  sword  well-nigh  drops  from  his  hand 
for  sheer  weariness  as  he  toils  on  beneath  the  fierce  glare  of  the 
Eastern  sun.  And  it  seems  as  if  he  must  faint  and  fall  before 
the  full  fruits  of  victory  are  reaped,  when  suddenly  a  little  brook 
of  cool  and  limpid  water  presents  itself  to  his  gaze,  and  the  faint 
and  tired  warrior  stoops  and  drinks  a  long,  deep  draught,  and  the 
clear,  cool  water  brings  refreshing  and  new  strength  to  his  ex- 
hausted frame,  so  that,  with  new  vigour  and  determination,  he 
resumes  the  pursuit,  and  makes  the  victory  final  and  complete. 
"  He  shall  drink  of  the  brook  in  the  way :  therefore  shall  he  lift 
up  the  head." 

2.  This  ideal  King  overthrows  all  His  enemies  and  wins  a 
lasting  dominion  because  He  is  God's  own  partner.  He  knows 
how  to  conquer.  He  is  content  that  His  battles  should  be  taken 
out  of  His  hands,  and  that  the  victory  when  it  comes  should  be 
God's  victory  and  not  His  own.  In  Him  there  is  no  self-assertion 
or  display;  He  accepts  what  God  allows  and  asks  no  more. 
Inferior  men  may  be  restless,  as  they  take  on  themselves  the 
burden  of  the  world  and  its  future,  striking  hotly  in  defence 


PSALM  ex.  7 


371 


of  their  view  of  truth,  and  growing  troubled  and  dejected  when 
that  view  does  not  make  way.  But  in  the  true  Master  of  men 
there  is  a  superlative  trust  in  God ;  He  suffers  His  own  effort  and 
His  own  message  to  pass  into  the  sum  of  God's  providential 
forces,  which  are  working  for  new  heavens  and  a  new  earth.  He 
does  not  bear  the  burden  of  the  world  anxiously,  but  leaves  it  in 
the  strong  hands  of  Him  who  can  sustain  it  all.  Peter  speaks  of 
Jesus  "  sitting  at  the  right  hand  of  God,  expecting,"  which  is  a 
word  of  admonition  for  all  unquiet  minds  so  ludicrously  solicitous 
about  the  interests  and  the  work  of  God.  But  whilst  He  was 
still  on  earth,  Jesus  suffered  God  to  fight  His  battles  for  Him. 
He  tarried  for  the  Lord's  leisure.  He  believed  in  powers  which 
work  slowly  and  without  noise,  and  He  knew  the  rest  of  heart  of 
those  who  wait  for  God  and  are  content  that  He  should  work. 

3.  "  What  is  to  hinder  this  man  from  governing  ? "  says 
Carlyle  of  the  Abbot  Samson.  "  There  is  in  him  what  far 
transcends  all  apprenticeships;  in  the  man  himself  there  exists 
a  model  of  governing,  something  to  govern  by.  He  has  the 
living  ideal  of  a  governor  in  him."  In  like  fashion  the  poet 
sweeps  aside  the  whole  mob  of  kings  so  called,  David  and 
Solomon  and  their  posterity,  who  in  turn  had  claimed  to  sit  on 
the  throne  of  Jehovah.  He  did  not  mean  that  kind  of  thing 
at  all — a  merely  titular  kingship,  which  had  no  promise  in  it. 
One  day  there  will  be  born  a  King,  possessing  every  gift  of  rule, 
born  to  command  the  wavering  hearts  of  men;  and  when  He 
comes  the  first  to  acknowledge  Him  will  be  God,  who  will  make 
a  place  in  His  universe  for  Him,  and  raise  Him  not  to  where 
these  spectral  majesties  have  sat,  these  uneasy  phantasms  which 
have  flitted  across  the  scene,  but  to  where  none  ever  sat  before. 
"  Sit  at  my  right  hand." 

Thus  Christ  alone  answers  fully  to  the  description  of  the 
conquering  King,  who  is  also  "  a  priest  for  ever  after  the  order  of 
Melchizedek."  It  is  He  alone  who  goes  forth  at  the  head  of 
an  army  numberless  as  the  dewdrops  of  a  summer  morn,  every 
soldier  in  it  clothed  in  holy  garments,  sweeping  His  enemies 
before  Him,  gaining  one  victory  after  another  until  they  are 
all  beneath  His  feet,  and  His  Kingdom  stretches  from  the  river 
unto  the  ends  of  the  earth. 


372  THE  BROOK  IN  THE  WAY 


4.  This  King  not  only  sits  as  partner  with  the  King  of 
kings,  but  is  content  to  share  the  lot  of  the  common  soldier. 
The  Psalmist  writes  of  "  his  Lord  "  at  the  right  hand  of  Jehovah, 
that  He  shall  be  refreshed  along  His  conquering  march,  not  with 
the  rich  wines  of  Helbon  cooled  in  the  snows  of  Lebanon,  but, 
like  any  private  soldier,  from  the  wayside  brook.  And  He  shall 
need  refreshment,  having  taken  His  full  share  of  toil.  This 
contrast  between  a  splendid  destiny  and  the  simplest  life  was 
never  so  true  of  any  as  of  Jesus  Christ.  It  is  this  contrast  that 
moves  St.  Paul  to  astonishment  in  the  words,  "  God  sent  forth 
his  Son,  born  of  a  woman,  born  under  the  law."  We  have  not 
a  High  Priest  who  cannot  be  touched  with  the  feeling  of  our  infir- 
mity, but  One  who  was  tempted  in  all  points  like  as  we  are — weary, 
athirst,  and  faint.  For  thirty  years  Jesus  lived  the  frugal  and 
simple  life  of  a  carpenter's  son  in  a  quiet  village  among  the  hills 
of  Galilee.  His  first  recorded  temptation  was  to  break  His 
fellowship  with  us  by  claiming  miraculous  supplies,  at  least  of 
bread ;  but  this  help,  which  He  gave  to  others,  He  would  not 
Himself  employ.  Never  once  did  Jesus  use  His  special  powers 
for  Himself  to  make  a  difference  between  His  life  and  ours,  or 
drink  of  other  streams  but  such  as  ran  by  the  wayside  for  all. 
His  first  miracle  was  to  make  large  supplies  of  wine  for  a 
marriage  feast ;  but,  for  His  own  part.  He  would  sit  by  the 
wayside  fountain,  waiting,  and  would  ask  a  lost  woman  to  bestow 
on  Him  a  cup  of  cold  water.  The  fever  of  His  cruel  death  was 
alleviated  by  the  vinegar,  the  sour  wine,  of  the  private  soldiers 
beneath  His  cross.  Even  after  His  resurrection,  when  He  had 
already  entered  upon  that  sublime  and  mysterious  life  which  it 
is  our  highest  hope  to  share,  He  did  not  scorn  to  take  of  the  fish 
which  they  had  drawn  from  the  Lake  of  Galilee,  and,  again,  even 
of  the  cold  fish  which  remained  from  a  former  meal. 

^  The  troops  of  Charles  the  Twelfth,  in  sore  distress  and 
half  inclined  to  mutiny,  brought  him  a  specimen  of  their  bread,  j 
which  was  hard  and  sour  and  black.    To  their  astonishment,  ! 
the  king  ate  it  with  a  relish,  and  quietly  answered :  "  It  is  not  ' 
good  bread,  but  it  can  be  eaten."    There  was  no  more  thought 
of  mutiny  in  that  camp ;  nor  will  such  a  leader  ever  lack  men 
to  follow,  to  suffer,  and  to  die  with  him.^  M 

1  G.  A.  Chadwick,  Pilate's  Gift,  269.  ■ 


PSALM  ex.  7 


373 


(1)  The  Son  of  God  became  one  with  us  in  taking  our  nature. 
He  did  not  come  to  the  world  robed  in  cloud  and  fire  and 
storm,  and  attended  by  an  army  of  angels.  Eather,  He  did 
much  to  conceal  His  majesty  during  the  time  that  He  lived  on 
earth.  He  was  born  a  Jew;  and  the  Hebrew  nation  was  "the 
fewest  of  all  peoples" — not  one  of  the  great  broad  streams  of 
mankind,  but  as  a  "  brook  in  the  way " ;  yet  the  Lord  Jesus 
drank  of  that  brook.  "  He  took  not  on  him  the  nature  of  angels ; 
but  he  took  on  him  the  seed  of  Abraham."  Without  for  a 
moment  ceasing  to  be  God,  He  stooped  to  become  a  babe  in  the 
manger,  a  humble  and  inquiring  boy  growing  up  a  working 
carpenter  in  a  country  town,  then  a  homeless  wayfarer,  a 
rejected  religious  teacher,  and  at  last  a  crucified  slave. 

(2)  Our  Great  Captain  at  length  bowed  His  head  to  drink 
our  cup  of  suffering  and  sorrow.  That  bitter  cup  was  put  into 
His  hand  in  the  garden  of  Gethsemane,  and  He  did  not  refuse 
to  drink  it.  He  did  not,  as  He  might  have  done,  use  His 
almighty  power  to  deliver  Himself  from  His  enemies.  He  gave 
Himself  up,  a  weary  and  unarmed  man,  to  their  wicked  will. 
Out  of  love  for  us,  and  with  a  view  to  our  redemption,  He 
allowed  Himself  to  be  nailed  to  the  cross.  And  there  He  was 
"  made  a  curse  for  us,"  bearing  our  sin  and  shame  and  doom. 

^  Nothing  can  have  a  more  tranquillizing  effect  upon  us  in 
this  world  than  the  frequent  consideration  of  the  afflictions, 
necessities,  contempt,  calumnies,  insults,  and  humiliations  which 
our  Lord  suffered  from  His  birth  to  His  most  painful  death. 
When  we  contemplate  such  a  weight  of  bitterness  as  this,  are 
we  not  wrong  in  giving  to  the  trifling  misfortunes  which  befall 
us  even  the  names  of  adversities  and  injuries  ?  Are  we  not 
ashamed  to  ask  a  share  of  His  Divine  patience  to  help  us  to 
bear  such  trifles  as  these,  seeing  that  the  smallest  modicum  of 
moderation  and  humility  would  suffice  to  make  us  bear  calmly 
the  insults  offered  to  us  ?  ^ 

^  Before  the  apotheosis  of  the  cross,  suffering  was  a  curse 
from  which  man  fled ;  now  it  becomes  a  purification  of  the  soul, 
a  sacred  trial  sent  by  Eternal  Love,  a  Divine  dispensation  meant 
to  sanctify  and  ennoble  us,  an  acceptable  aid  to  faith,  a  strange 
initiation  into  happiness.  0  power  of  belief ! — All  remains  the 
same,  and  yet  all  is  changed.    A  new  certitude  arises  to  deny 

*  The  Sjpiritof  St.  Francis  de  Sales,  172. 


374         THE  BROOK  IN  THE  WAY 


the  apparent  and  the  tangible ;  it  pierces  through  the  mystery 
of  things,  it  places  an  invisible  Father  behind  visible  nature,  it 
shows  us  joy  shining  through  tears,  and  makes  of  pain  the 
beginning  of  joy.  And  so,  for  those  who  have  believed,  the  tomb 
becomes  heaven,  and  on  the  funeral  pyre  of  life  they  sing  the 
hosanna  of  immortality ;  a  sacred  madness  has  renewed  the  face 
of  the  world  for  them,  and  when  they  wish  to  explain  what  they 
feel,  their  ecstasy  makes  them  incomprehensible ;  they  speak 
with  tongues.  A  wild  intoxication  of  self-sacrifice,  contempt 
for  death,  the  thirst  for  eternity,  the  delirium  of  love — these 
are  what  the  unalterable  gentleness  of  the  Crucified  has  had 
power  to  bring  forth.  By  His  pardon  of  His  executioners,  and 
by  that  unconquerable  sense  in  Him  of  an  indissoluble  union 
with  God,  Jesus,  on  His  cross,  kindled  an  inextinguishable  fire 
and  revolutionized  the  world.^ 

Christ's  Heart  was  wrung  for  me,  if  mine  is  sore ; 

And  if  my  feet  are  weary,  His  have  bled; 

He  had  no  place  wherein  to  lay  His  Head; 
If  I  am  burdened.  He  was  burdened  more. 
The  cup  I  drink,  He  drank  of  long  before; 

He  felt  the  unuttered  anguish  which  I  dread; 

He  hungered  who  the  hungry  thousands  fed, 
And  thirsted  who  the  world's  refreshment  bore. 
If  grief  be  such  a  looking-glass  as  shows 

Christ's  Face  and  man's  in  some  sort  made  alike, 
Then  grief  is  pleasure  with  a  subtle  taste  : 
Wherefore  should  any  fret  or  faint  or  haste  ? 
Grief  is  not  grievous  to  a  soul  that  knows 

Christ  comes, — and  listens  for  that  hour  to  strike.^ 


II. 

The  Common  Brook. 

"  He  shall  drink  of  the  brook  in  the  way."  It  is  wonderful  to 
think  of  the  spiritual  life  of  Jesus  nourished  by  the  same  means 
of  grace  as  are  available  for  us  all.  At  every  point  in  Christ's 
experience  there  was  a  sense  of  obstacle  and  resistance.  Salvation 
for  Him  was  every  day  a  task  entailing  agony.  But  always  He 
bore  down  the  resistance,  and,  welcoming  the  reliefs  that  were 


1  AmieVs  Journal  (trans,  by  Mrs.  Humphry  Ward),  168. 
*  Christina  G.  Rossetti,  Verses,  37. 


PSALM  ex.  7 


375 


given  Him  by  God,  He  passed  on  with  lifted  head  to  the  burden 
and  the  battle  of  the  new  day,  sure  of  Himself,  sure  of  His  cause, 
very  sure  of  God  and  victory.  "  True  souls  always  are  hilarious." 
Think  of  Him  when  the  disciples  came  back  from  their  first 
excursion,  elated,  as  small  men  will  be,  by  their  minute  successes ; 
their  ministry,  one  may  suppose,  had  scarcely  drawn  attention  in 
the  single  province  of  Galilee,  and  He  had  taken  on  Himself  the 
redemption  of  the  world.  But  hear  His  comment,  "  When  you 
were  away  I  was  watching  Satan  and  he  was  fallen  "  (an  imperfect 
tense  followed  by  an  aorist).  The  most  meagre  encourage- 
ment, the  first  faint  effort  of  a  soul  to  free  itself,  spoke  home 
to  His  heart,  and  He  drew  water  with  joy  out  of  the  wells  of 
salvation. 

We  do  not  find  that  one  innocent  pleasure  which  came  "  in 
the  way "  to  J esus  was  sourly  or  wilfully  refused  by  Him.  He 
would  leave  a  feast  at  once,  if  called  by  Jairus  to  a  sick-bed  ;  but 
He  would  not  refuse  the  feast  of  His  friends  in  Bethany,  though 
He  knew  that  He  was  reproached  for  eating  and  drinking,  and 
though  He  felt  His  death  to  be  so  near  that  the  ointment  then 
poured  upon  Him  would  go  with  Him  to  His  burial.  How  does 
His  example  affect  us  ?  We  may  have  to  refuse  pleasures  because 
we  are  weak,  because  temptations  must  be  avoided,  because  we 
have  no  longer  any  choice  except  to  cripple  our  life,  or,  having  two 
feet,  to  be  cast  into  hell  fire ;  but  this  is  not  a  thing  to  boast  of. 
Or,  like  St.  Paul,  we  may  deny  ourselves  for  our  weak  brother's 
sake,  which  is  an  honour,  and  a  Christ-like  thing ;  but  the  rule, 
apart  from  special  cases,  is  that  the  best  and  truest  life  is  such  as 
welcomes  and  is  refreshed  by  all  simple  pleasures  which  sparkle 
and  sing  by  our  life's  path,  which  do  not  require  us  to  leave  the 
road  of  duty  that  we  may  drink  of  them. 

If  Eastern  people  have  a  very  skilful  way  of  drinking  from  a 
flowing  stream  without  stopping  in  their  running.  They  throw 
the  water  up  into  the  mouth.  An  Eastern  traveller  writes  :  "  In 
an  excursion  across  an  Arabian  desert,  some  of  the  Arabs,  on 
coming  to  water,  rushed  to  it,  and,  stooping  sufficiently  to  allow 
the  right  hand  to  reach  the  water,  they  threw  it  up  into  their 
mouths  so  dexterously,  that  I  never  observed  any  of  the  water 
to  fall  upon  the  breast.  I  often  tried  to  do  it,  but  never 
succeeded." 


376         THE  BROOK  IN  THE  WAY 


1.  Jesus  found  refreshment  in  quiet  communion  with  nature. 
In  one  of  his  letters  Nathaniel  Hawthorne  speaks  about  bathing 
himself  in  "  the  refreshing  waters  of  solitude  and  open-air  nature," 
and  there  is  no  season  of  the  year  in  which  we  may  not  find  this 
source  of  rest  and  refreshment  for  the  mind  and  heart.  The 
creation  may  always  be  our  recreation.  To  be  in  love  with  this 
beautiful  world  is  to  be  at  the  secret  source  of  many  a  noble 
pleasure.  To  have  a  mind  and  heart  open  to  the  highest 
impressions  of  the  natural  universe,  to  be  able  to  enter  into  the 
life  of  a  summer  or  a  winter  day,  to  enjoy  a  night  of  stars,  to  feel 
the  beauty  of  a  flower,  the  grandeur  of  a  storm,  the  spell  of  the 
wide  waters  or  the  high  mountains,  is  to  have  abundant  means  of 
recovery  and  renewal  always  nigh  at  hand  whenever  we  feel  the 
need  of  calling  ourselves  off  for  a  time  from  the  excitement  and 
strain  of  the  daily  conflict.  It  is  true  that  nature  does  not 
yield  the  sympathy  which  the  passionate  human  heart  requires, 
but  insensibly  she  helps  her  lovers  to  bear  their  burdens  and  to 
find  rest  in  God.  We  are  quickened  and  comforted  by  outward 
things  more  than  we  know.  The  sun  and  moon  and  stars, 
unaffected  by  our  little  controversies,  rebuke  and  soothe  us  as  we 
gaze  on  their  tranquil  glory.  The  mountains  bring  peace,  and  our 
fretfulness  is  carried  away  by  the  rushing  river  at  our  feet.  Not 
only  in  the  synagogue  did  Jesus  find  refreshment,  but  in  the  lilies 
of  the  field,  in  the  sunset  sky,  among  the  hills,  and  by  the  Lake  of 
Galilee. 

^  In  his  suggestive  journal,  Amiel,  describing  a  country  walk 
taken  when  a  dark  and  troubled  mood  was  upon  him,  thus  writes : 
"  The  sunlight,  the  green  leaves,  the  sky,  all  whispered  to  me, '  Be 
of  good  cheer  and  courage,  poor  wounded  one  ! ' "  We  are  all  at 
times  poor  wounded  ones,  needing  all  the  refreshment  and  healing 
we  can  find.  And, 

What  simple  joys  from  simple  sources  spring !  ^ 

By  the  avenue,  on  to  the  mansion, 

There  runs  a  clear  stream  all  the  way, 
Pursuing  my  path,  I  can  see  it, 
And  list  to  its  roundelay ; 
Still  gleaming  and  glancing, 
Still  laughing  and  dancing. 
It  carols  along  all  day. 

1  J.  Hunter,  The  Angels  of  Ood,  32. 


PSALM  ex.  7 


377 


In  summer  its  rippling  music, 

Delight  and  refreshing  instils, 
In  winter,  by  torrent-notes  swollen, 
Its  songs  all  the  dreariness  fills ; 
Still  leaping  and  bounding. 
Its  echoes  resounding, 
With  rapture  my  soul  it  thrills. 

And  precious  my  "  Brook  by  the  way  "  is, 

As  Homewards  I  journey  along, 
New  life  in  His  depths  I  discover, 
New  courage  I  take  from  His  song; 
In  gloom  and  in  gladness, 
In  sunshine  and  sadness, 
He  is  my  Salvation  strong 

2.  One  of  the  richest  streams  that  water  the  desert  of  life  is 
that  of  social  sympathy  and  helpfulness,  whereby  we  give  and 
take  of  the  rich  solace  of  brotherly  love.  To  feel  that  the  world 
is  a  little  better  for  our  being,  that,  when  the  little  light  of  our 
life  goes  out,  it  will  not  have  altogether  failed  to  light  some  other 
fire  of  warmth  and  helpfulness ;  that  some  lives  will  go  onward 
a  little  stronger,  and  more  hopeful,  for  something  we  have  been, 
or  said,  or  even  tried  to  be,  this  is  a  brook  of  consolation  which 
becomes  the  more  precious  the  nearer  we  draw  to  the  isolation  of 
death.  Wretched  is  the  man  who  has  missed  this  brook  of  gentle 
human  ministry  in  life's  way,  and  recognized  too  late  how  much 
of  his  soul's  life  he  has  lost  in  saving  it. 

Nor,  that  time, 
When  nature  had  subdued  him  to  herself. 
Would  he  forget  those  Beings  to  whose  minds 
Warm  from  the  labours  of  benevolence 
The  world,  and  human  life,  appeared  a  scene 
Of  kindred  loveliness :  then  he  would  sigh, 
Inly  disturbed,  to  think  that  others  felt 
What  he  must  never  feel. 

George  MacDonald  says :  "  To  know  a  man  who  can  be 
trusted  will  do  more  for  one's  moral  nature  than  all  the  books 
of  divinity  that  were  ever  written."  The  beauty  of  the  outward 
world  is  full  of  Divine  help,  but  there  is  more  beauty  and  more 

*  T.  Crawford,  Horae  Serenae^  71. 


378         THE  BROOK  IN  THE  WAY 


inspiration  in  living  excellence  than  in  the  fairest  natural  scenes. 
Wonderfully  refreshing  is  the  heart's  speech  of  the  truly  wise  and 
good,  but  more  beneficent  is  the  brave  thought  when  it  becomes 
the  brave  deed,  and  more  life-giving  the  Divine  Word  when  it  is 
made  flesh  and  dwells  among  us.  How  rich  the  quickening  and 
renewing  influences  which  come  from  the  presence  and  example 
of  men  who  lift  clearly  before  us  the  nobler  ideals  of  life ;  from 
the  memory  of  the  faithful  dead ;  and  from  the  biographic  page — 

Bright  affluent  spirits,  breathing  but  to  bless, 

Whose  presence  cheers  men's  eyes  and  warms  their  hearts, 

Whose  lavish  goodness  this  old  world  renews, 

Like  the  free  sunshine  and  the  liberal  air.^ 

^  There  is  a  mysterious  power  in  sympathy,  and  I  thank 
God  that  the  stream  of  sympathy  is  ever  "in  the  way"  of 
sorrowing  souls.  I  see  much  sorrow,  much  pain,  much  heart- 
break, but  I  see  also,  and  I  thank  God  for  it,  much  sympathy. 
Indeed,  I  am  persuaded  we  never  know  what  a  wealth  of  sym- 
pathy and  love  there  dwells  in  many  a  heart  until  sorrow  calls 
it  forth.  And  how  a  little  sympathy  comforts,  and  cheers,  and 
refreshes  the  soul.  "  She  did  help  me,"  said  a  poor  soul  about  one 
who  was  a  veritable  angel  of  mercy.  "  I  felt  so  much  better  for 
her  visit."  "  Well,  what  did  she  say  to  you  ? "  I  asked.  "  Well,  she 
didn't  say  much,  but  she  sat  with  me  and  held  my  hand."  That 
good  woman's  sympathy,  silent  sympathy,  was  a  veritable  "  brook 
in  the  way"  to  that  poor  bereaved  and  lonely  soul,  and  she 
drank  of  it  and  lifted  up  her  head. 

3.  Another  brook  may  be  found  in  the  appointed  means  of 
grace.  Christ  frequently  drank  of  it.  "There  is  a  river,  the 
streams  whereof  shall  make  glad  the  city  of  God,  the  holy  place 
of  the  tabernacles  of  the  Most  High."  We  must  seek,  as  our 
fathers  did,  the  perennial  springs  of  refreshment  that  are  to  be 
found  in  the  private  and  public  ordinances  of  religion.  The  ex- 
citements and  exhaustions  of  modern  life  make  this  duty  even 
more  imperative.  Industry  and  enterprise  are  good ;  but  life  is 
not  only  action,  it  is  thought  and  feeling  also.  We  do  ourselves 
the  greatest  wrong  if  we  allow  our  activities  to  crowd  meditation 
and  prayer  out  of  our  days  and  to  rob  us  of  the  secret  of  rest  in 
God.  To  have  depth  and  elevation  and  tranquillity  in  life,  and  the 
aim  kept  high,  and  the  impulse  true  and  steady,  it  is  absolutely 

1  J.  Hunter,  The  Angels  of  God,  36. 

I 


PSALM  ex.  7 


379 


necessary  for  mind  and  heart  to  have  constant  access  to  the 
Source  of  inspiration.  It  is  a  moral  calamity  to  lose  the  medi- 
tative and  worshipful  spirit.  Eeverence,  faith,  and  aspiration 
are  the  springs  of  noble  and  fruitful  living.  Sunday  and  the 
Church  stand  for  our  highest  life.  They  invite  us  to  drink  of 
waters  that  rise  from  cool  and  unpolluted  depths.  They  offer  an 
opportunity  of  finding  that  truest  rest  and  recreation  which 
come  through  mental  and  spiritual  quickening  and  uplifting,  and 
of  verifying  the  word  of  prophecy,  "  They  that  wait  upon  the  Lord 
shall  renew  their  strength." 

^  I  know  a  little  chapel  in  my  own  native  land,  away  out  in 
the  country,  far  from  village  and  town.  But  every  Sabbath  from 
miles  around  the  farmers  and  farm  labourers  gather  in  the  little 
building  to  hear  the  gospel  preached.  Their  lives  are  hard  and 
monotonous  enough ;  but  they  find  peace,  joy,  love,  in  the  little 
chapel,  and  because  of  what  it  has  been  to  them  they  have  called 
it  "  Elim."  There  the  name  stands  graven  over  the  door — Elim, 
the  place  of  springing  water  and  shady  palm  trees.  And  that 
is  what  the  sanctuary  always  is  to  the  humble  worshipper. 
Whether  it  is  called  by  the  name  or  not,  it  is  an  Elim  to  him.  I 
read  in  the  old  Book  of  one  who  was  sore  distressed  by  the  diffi- 
culties and  troubles  of  life.  They  harassed  him  and  well-nigh 
drove  him  to  distraction.  And  it  seemed  as  if  the  trouble  would 
crush  and  overv/helm  him,  until — notice  that — until  he  went  into 
the  sanctuary,  and  then  the  trouble  all  disappeared  and  his  heart 
was  filled  with  the  peace  of  God.  "  I  came  to  church  tired," 
wrote  one  to  me  only  last  week.  "  I  came  to  church  tired,  and 
not  a  little  soul  weary ;  I  left  rested,  refreshed,  strengthened ;  I 
met  my  Lord  there."  ^ 

4.  The  brook  that  truly  quenches  our  thirst  issues  from  the 
throne  of  God.  All  merely  ethical  and  philanthropic  systems  lack 
power  to  slake  man's  thirst,  apart  from  the  love  of  Him  who  was 
Love  Incarnate.  He,  and  He  alone,  it  is  who  makes  human  life 
glad  with  the  rivers  of  God ;  who  gives  us  to  drink  not  only  of 
the  "  still  waters  "  of  His  peace,  but  of  the  rich  renewing  wine  of 
His  blood. 

Faith  that  looks  up  to  Him  finds  "  streams  in  the  desert,"  and 
many  a  brook  of  consolation  and  refreshment  in  the  way  of  life's 
sternest  conflicts.    Of  such  a  faith  it  is  true — 

1  J.  D.  Jones,  The  Elims  of  Life,  182. 


38o  THE  BROOK  IN  THE  WAY 


The  stars  of  midnight  shall  be  dear 
To  her;  and  she  shall  lean  her  ear 

In  many  a  secret  place 
Where  rivulets  dance  their  wayward  round, 
And  beauty  born  of  murmuring  sound 

Shall  pass  into  her  face. 

^  I  remember  an  incident  in  the  biography  of  a  prince  in 
learning,  who,  alas,  was  not  a  little  child  in  the  family  of  God. 
Once,  in  a  time  of  depression,  John  Stuart  Mill  found  comfort  in 
music,  until  the  thought  came  to  him  that,  the  octave  having  no 
more  than  eight  tones  in  it,  there  must  be  limitations  to  the 
possibilities  of  melody.  Even  this  spiritual  octave  of  ours, 
various  and  marvellous  as  its  messages  are,  has  its  limitations. 
Let  us  quench  our  thirst  at  the  Fountainhead.^ 

^  Augustine  tried  the  broken  cisterns  and  he  was  thirsty 
still.  "  Turned  from  Thee,  the  One  Good,  I  lost  myself  among  a 
multiplicity  of  things,  I  wandered  into  fruitless  seed-beds  of 
sorrow,  with  a  proud  dejectedness  and  a  restless  weariness.  I 
bore  about  a  shattered  and  bleeding  soul,  impatient  of  being  borne 
by  me,  yet  where  to  repose  it  I  found  not."  So  the  eager  and 
often  disappointed  quest  went  on,  until,  under  the  fig-tree  in  the 
garden  at  Milan,  in  the  year  of  our  Saviour  386,  he  put  on  the 
Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and  made  no  provision  for  the  flesh.  Then 
his  lips  were  opened,  and  he  could  sing :  "  This  is  the  happy  life, 
to  rejoice  to  Thee  and  of  Thee  and  for  Thee  ;  this  is  it,  and  there 
is  no  other.  Too  late  I  learned  to  know  Thee,  0  Thou  Beauty  of 
ancient  days,  too  late  I  learned  to  love  Thee !  Many  and  great 
are  my  infirmities ;  but  Thy  medicine  is  mightier." 

5.  The  use  of  the  brook  is  to  give  refreshment  and  strength 
to  continue  the  battle.  Each  age  has  its  own  impulse  which 
carries  it  a  little  way,  but  then  there  is  the  temptation  to  relax 
and  to  rest  in  what  has  been  attained,  as  if  that  were  the 
measure  of  the  thought  of  God.  But  with  another  age  a  new 
call  has  come  and  courage  to  deal  with  it.  Men  have  not  come 
to  the  end  of  the  warfare  to  which  Christ  has  committed  them. 
The  gospel  has  a  promise  for  every  creature  under  heaven  ;  it  has 
an  application  to  every  variety  of  condition  ;  it  proves  its  power 
in  men  of  every  age.  "It  starts  each  epoch  and  each  century 
with  renewed  ardour  and  redoubled  vigour."  The  things  that 
have  been  are  the  pale  shadows  of  things  which  are  to  be.  Bub 

^  A.  Smell ie,  Service  and  Inspiration,  70. 


PSALM  ex.  7 


381 


every  victory  over  sin  in  the  present  or  in  the  future  has  its 
explanation  in  the  greatness  of  the  heart  of  the  Eedeemer,  who 
still  passes  undiscouraged  on  His  way. 

At  the  extreme  limit  of  his  vision  this  poet  saw  not  rest  and 
quiescence,  but  the  King  setting  forth  upon  yet  greater  conquests. 
We  are  a  laggard  race,  ever  anxious  and  unready,  afraid  of 
what  may  come,  doubtful  if  righteousness  can  really  win  the 
day ;  and  our  chief  need  is  to  kindle  faith  for  the  world  afresh  by 
a  better  study  of  the  world's  King.  "  He  shall  not  fail  nor  be 
discouraged,  till  he  have  set  judgment  in  the  earth ;  and  the  isles 
shall  wait  for  his  law." 

^  I  think  I  have  sometimes  noticed  in  you  an  impatience  of 
mind  which  you  should  guard  against  carefully.  Pin  this  maxim 
up  in  your  memory — that  Nature  abhors  the  credit  system,  and 
that  we  never  get  anything  in  life  till  we  have  paid  for  it.  Any- 
thing good,  I  mean;  evil  things  we  always  pay  for  afterwards, 
and  always  when  we  find  it  hardest  to  do  it.  By  paying  for 
them,  of  course,  I  mean  labouring  for  them.  Tell  me  how  much 
good  solid  work  a  young  man  has  in  him,  and  I  will  erect  a  horo- 
scope for  him  as  accurate  as  Guy  Mannering's  for  young  Bertram. 
Talents  are  absolutely  nothing  to  a  man  except  he  have  the 
faculty  of  work  along  with  them.  They,  in  fact,  turn  upon  him 
and  worry  him,  as  Actseon's  dogs  did — you  remember  the  story  ? 
Patience  and  perseverance — these  are  the  sails  and  the  rudder 
even  of  genius,  without  which  it  is  only  a  wretched  hulk  upon  the 
waters.^ 

^  The  husbandman  sows  his  seed  and  toils  on,  and  persistence 
reaps  the  harvest.  The  scholar  opens  his  books  and  toils  on,  and 
persistence  reaps  fame.  The  reformer  attacks  the  evil  and  toils 
on,  and  persistence  destroys  the  evil.  The  force  that  is  constant 
will  always  overcome  the  force  that  is  less  constant.  Indeed, 
there  never  lived  a  man  that  came  to  anything  who  lacked  this 
quality  of  pertinacity  and  adherence.  How  is  it  that  the 
mountain-climber  reached  that  summit  of  23,000  feet  ?  Plainly 
by  going  on  and  on  until  his  foot  was  on  the  last  stone  and  the 
whole  earth  was  under  his  feet.  The  motto  of  David  Livingstone 
was  in  these  words :  "  I  determined  never  to  stop  until  I  had 
come  to  the  end  and  achieved  my  purpose."  When  Livingstone's 
work  in  Africa  was  done,  the  Dark  Continent  was  mapped  out 
and  spread  fully  before  the  merchants  of  the  world.  He  crossed 
Africa  four  times,  and  marched  for  days  up  to  his  armpits  in 

*  Letters  of  James  Russell  Lowell,  i.  183. 


382  THE  BROOK  IN  THE  WAY 


water,  endured  twenty-seven  attacks  of  fever,  was  surrounded 
with  enemies  on  every  side,  faced  mutiny,  poisoned  arrows,  wild 
beasts,  the  bite  of  serpents,  but  never  gave  up.  By  sheer,  dogged 
persistence  and  faith  in  God  he  conquered,  acting  as  if  he  thought 
his  body  was  as  immortal  as  his  spirit.^ 

^  By  his  zeal,  constancy,  and  wisdom,  by  his  mechanical 
genius  and  his  gift  of  languages,  Mackay  had  made  himself  a 
household  word  and  a  power  in  the  whole  region  of  Uganda.  His 
hopefulness  and  courage  never  failed  him.  The  misfortunes  which 
overtook  the  Uganda  mission  at  various  times  were  regarded  by 
timid  and  fearful  souls  at  home  as  indications  from  God  that  the 
work  there  should  be  abandoned.  When  Mackay  heard  of  these 
proposals,  he  wrote :  "  Are  you  joking  ?  If  you  tell  me  in  earnest 
that  such  a  suggestion  has  been  made,  I  only  answer,  Never! 
Tell  me,  ye  faint  hearts,  to  whom  ye  mean  to  give  up  the  mission  ? 
Is  it  to  murderous  raiders  like  Mwanga,  or  to  slave-traders  from 
Zanzibar,  or  to  English  and  Belgian  dealers  in  rifles  and  gun- 
powder, or  to  German  spirit-sellers  ?  All  are  in  the  field,  and 
they  make  no  talk  of  *  giving  up '  their  respective  missions ! " 
That  was  the  spirit  which  burnt  in  the  heart  of  Mackay  to  the 
end  of  his  brief  life.^ 

1  N.  D.  Hillis,  The  Contagion  of  CJiarader,  228. 
*  W.  G.  Berry,  Bishop  Hannington,  180. 


What  shall  I  Render? 


383 


Literature. 


Burrows  (H.  W.),  Parochial  Sermons^  iii.  154. 
Ketcham  (W.  E.),  Thanksgiviv/j  Sermons,  245. 
Kirkpatrick  (A.  F.),  The  Book  of  Psalms  (Cambridge  Bible),  690. 
Maclaren  (A.),  Expositions  :  Psalms  li.-cxlv.,  273. 

„        „    The  Book  of  Psalms  (Expositor's  Bible),  liL  226. 
Martin  (S.),  Eain  upon  the  Mown  Grass,  273. 
Price  (A.  C),  Fifty  Sermons,  vii.  73. 
Rowlands  (D.),  in  Jesus  in  the  Cornfield,  173. 

Spurgeon  (C.  H.),  Metropolitan  Tabernacle  Pulpit,  xvi.  (1870),  No.  910. 
Stevens  (H.),  Sermon  Outlines,  307. 

Tyndall  (C.  H.),  Object  Sermons  in  Outline,  162.  ^ 
Waters  ton  (R.),  Thoughts  on  the  Lord^s  Supper,  129. 
Watkinson  (W.  L.),  The  Education  of  the  Heart,  253. 
Wilkinson  (J.  B.),  Mission  Sermons,  i.  222. 
Christian  World  Pulpit,  xxxii.  394  (R.  H.  Hadden)  ;  xxxvi.  396  (?.' 

Mearns) ;  Ivi.  229  (J.  Percival). 
Church  of  England  Pulpit,  xlviii.  195  (J.  Percival). 
Examiner,  Oct.  5,  1905  (J.  H.  Jowett). 
Homiletic  Review,  New  Ser.,  xxxix.  29  (T.  H.  Stockton). 
Literary  Churchman^  xxxviii.  (1892)  334  (F.  St.  J.  Corbett). 


384 


What  shall  I  Render? 


What  shall  I  render  unto  the  Lord 

For  all  his  benefits  toward  me? 

I  will  take  the  cup  of  salvation, 

And  call  upon  the  name  of  the  Lord. 

I  will  pay  my  vows  unto  the  Lord, 

Yea,  in  the  presence  of  all  his  people.— Ps.  cxvi.  12-14. 

1.  The  psalm  from  which  this  text  is  taken  is  a  psalm  of  thanks- 
giving. It  is  one  of  six  called  the  Great  Hallel,  extending  from 
the  113th  to  the  118th,  which  were  sung  by  the  Jews  at  their 
great  festivals,  especially  at  the  Passover.  It  was  probably  one  of 
these  psalms  that  was  sung  by  our  Saviour  and  His  eleven 
disciples  when  He  instituted  His  own  supper,  at  the  close  of  His 
last  Passover  with  them ;  as  we  are  told  in  the  evangelic  story, 
"  When  they  had  sung  a  hymn,  they  went  out  unto  the  mount  of 
Olives." 

I  2.  It  appears  that  the  Psalmist,  when  he  wrote  this  psalm, 
had  been  delivered  by  God  out  of  some  mighty  trouble.  How 
great  that  trouble  was  may  be  gathered  from  the  telling  language 
In  which  he  describes  it.  "  The  sorrows  of  death  compassed  me, 
md  the  pains  of  hell  gat  hold  upon  me:  I  found  trouble  and 
sorrow."  But  while  in  this  terrible  situation  he  directed  his 
iiihoughts  heavenward,  and  looked  for  help  where  he  had  often 
found  help  before.  Nor  did  he  look  in  vain  ;  for  he  says,  "  Thou 
hast  delivered  my  soul  from  death,  mine  eyes  from  tears,  and  my 
:eet  from  falling."  And  in  the  text  he  communes  with  his  own 
30ul,  and  considers  how  he  may  most  effectually  prove  his 
gratitude  for  this  timely  deliverance.  "  What  shall  I  render  unto 
)he  Lord  for  all  his  benefits  toward  me  ? " 


PS.  xxv.-cxix. — 25 


386 


WHAT  SHALL  I  RENDER? 


I. 

A  Bountiful  Giver. 

1.  The  Psalmist  was  not  one  of  those  thoughtless  and  in- 
different men  who  pass  through  life  receiving  all,  enjoying  all, 
expecting  all,  without  ever  bestowing  a  thought  on  the  bountiful 
Giver.  On  the  contrary,  he  seems  to  have  been  so  overwhelmed 
by  the  magnitude  and  multiplicity  of  God's  benefits  that  he 
scarcely  knew  how  to  express  his  gratitude.  The  language  he 
employs  is  that  of  a  man  perplexed,  bewildered,  overcome,  hardly 
knowing  what  to  say  or  how  to  act.  "  For  all  his  benefits  toward 
me" — benefits  great,  benefits  small,  benefits  temporal,  benefits 
spiritual;  but  all  benefits  unmerited  and  free.  "For  all  his 
benefits;"  as  they  rose  before  his  view,  a  vast,  countless  host, 
they  laid  him  under  a  debt  of  obligation  which  he  could  never 
hope  to  discharge. 

H  My  father's  gift  of  appreciation  was  of  a  most  charming 
type.  The  constant  repetitions  of  a  blessing  never  dulled  the  fine 
edge  of  his  gratitude.  He  had  a  sunlit  bedroom,  and  every 
morning,  so  my  mother  tells  me,  he  said,  "What  a  beautiful 
bedroom  !    We  must  thank  God  ! "  ^ 

2.  Few  of  us  are  adequately  thankful  for  the  commonplace 
blessings  which  surround  us ;  we  take  them  as  a  matter  of  course. 
We  do  not  know  what  it  is  to  be  without  them;  we  see  no 
prospect  of  being  deprived  of  them.  If  the  world  has  not  gone 
very  well  with  us,  it  has  not  gone  very  badly ;  because  we  might 
have  more  to  complain  of,  we  forget  for  how  much  we  ought  to 
be  grateful.  Let  us  contemplate,  as  in  the  presence  of  God,  all 
the  proofs  that  we  have  experienced  of  His  mercy;  the  pure 
affection  that  He  has  inspired,  the  sins  that  have  been  forgiven 
us,  the  snares  which  we  have  escaped,  the  protection  we  have 
received.  Let  our  hearts  be  touched  with  the  remembrance  of  all 
the  precious  proofs  of  His  goodness.  Add  to  this  the  sorrows 
that  He  has  sent  to  sanctify  our  hearts ;  for  we  should  look  upon 
these  also  as  proofs  of  His  love  for  us.  Let  gratitude  for  the 
past  inspire  us  with  confidence  in  the  future.    Let  us  never 


1  Love  and  Life :  The  Story  of  J.  Denholm  Brash  (1913),  156. 


PSALM  cxvi.  12-14 


387 


distrust  Him ;  let  us  fear  only  ourselves  and  remember  that  He 
is  the  Father  of  mercies,  and  the  God  of  all  consolation.  He 
sometimes  takes  away  His  consolations  from  us,  but  His  mercy 
ever  remains. 

^  0  God,  for  my  existence,  my  life,  my  reason ;  for  nurture, 
protection,  guidance,  education,  civil  rights,  religion ;  for  Thy  gifts 
to  me  of  grace,  nature,  worldly  good;  for  redemption,  regenera- 
tion, instruction  in  the  truth ;  for  my  call,  recall,  yea,  many  calls 
all  through  life;  for  Thy  forbearance,  longsuffering,  long  long- 
suffering,  toward  me,  even  until  now ;  for  all  good  things  received, 
for  all  successes  granted  to  me,  for  all  good  deeds  I  have  been 
enabled  to  do ;  for  my  parents  honest  and  good,  for  teachers  kind, 
for  benefactors  never  to  be  forgotten,  for  religious  intimates  so 
congenial  and  so  helpful,  for  hearers  thoughtful,  friends  true  and 
sincere,  servants  faithful ;  for  all  who  have  helped  me  by  their 
writings,  sermons,  conversations,  prayers,  examples,  rebukes,  and 
even  injuries  ;  for  all  these,  and  for  all  others  which  I  know,  and 
which  I  know  not,  open,  hidden,  remembered,  forgotten ; — "  What 
shall  I  render  unto  the  Lord  for  all  his  benefits  ? "  ^ 

3.  Our  share  of  God's  benefits  may  not  be  as  complete  as  we 
desire,  but  perhaps  it  is  much  more  than  we  deserve.  If  we  lack 
this  or  that  benefit,  so  copiously  showered  on  another,  shall  we 
venture  to  suggest  that  a  greater  measure  of  it  would  be  for  our 
eternal  good  ?  His  wealth  might  be  my  curse ;  my  health  might 
rob  him  of  the  necessary  discipline  of  suffering.  This  man's 
loneliness  is  meant  to  make  him  introspective  and  spiritual ;  that 
man's  adversity  will  teach  him  humility  and  compassion.  The 
Lord  knows  what  is  best.  And,  realizing  that,  let  none  of  us 
question  or  complain.  Let  us  see  in  the  distribution  of  the 
icommonplace  benefits  of  life,  not  an  erratic  or  partial  bestowal, 
ibut  a  Divine  assignment  of  mercies  and  blessings.  Let  gratitude 
and  thankfulness  and  faith  possess  our  hearts  and  minds.  There 
are  indeed  moments  in  life  when  we  awake  to  the  fact  of  God's 
boundless,  multitudinous,  all-encompassing  love,  and  when  we  are 
lalmost  overwhelmed  by  the  thought  of  it.  A  devout  soul  in 
habitual  worship  acknowledges  much,  and  even  then  feels  more 
than  is  expressed,  and  finally  sees  more  than  is  felt.  Yet,  alas ! 
the  goodness  of  God  recognized  by  us  is  by  far  the  least  part  of  it. 

*  Bishop  Andrewes,  Preces  Privatce. 

! 

\ 


388  WHAT  SHALL  I  RENDER? 


There  is  the  goodness  we  overlook.  God's  gifts  are  multiplied 
like  the  dewdrops  or  the  snowflakes,  and,  gliding  into  life  just  as 
silently,  are  easily  undiscerned  by  careless  eyes  like  ours. 

^  One  day  in  the  town  of  Sonora,  in  the  southern  mines  of 
California,  after  a  very  heavy  rain  and  freshet,  a  man  was  leading 
his  mule-cart  up  the  steep  principal  street,  when  his  foot  struck 
upon  a  large  stone ;  he  stooped  down  to  remove  it,  and  found  it 
was  a  solid  lump  of  gold,  about  twenty-five  pounds'  weight,  which 
had  been  exposed  by  the  storm,  and  many  hundreds  of  people  had 
passed  over  it  daily.  So  do  we  daily  blindly  trample  on  blessings 
richer  than  all  the  wealth  of  California.  There  is  the  goodness 
we  misconstrue.  We  count  sublime  things  commonplace,  and 
reckon  as  losses  and  disappointments  the  discipline  which  brings 
incorruptible  treasure.  The  "  benefits "  of  God  are  not  the 
pleasant  things  merely,  but  all  the  things  of  pain  and  tears.^ 

4.  To  perceive  and  appreciate  our  benefits  necessitates  a  very 
refined  soul.  That  is  so  upon  the  merely  human  plane.  There 
are  some  men  who  cannot  appreciate  kindness.  They  either 
never  see  their  benefits  or  they  misconstrue  them.  They  are  the 
victims  either  of  dulness  or  of  pride,  and  both  these  foul  spirits 
make  this  kind  of  appreciation  impossible.  But  this  spiritual 
numbness  is  even  more  apparent  in  our  relationship  to  God.  We 
receive  multitudes  of  benefits,  but  we  do  not  see  the  Divine  mark 
upon  their  foreheads.  We  take  them  in,  but  they  are  not 
revealed  to  us  as  the  King's  bounty.  It  is  amazing  how  fine  is 
the  perception  of  other  souls  !  They  never  open  their  eyes  without 
seeing  the  presence  of  the  hosts  of  God.  "  The  mountains  are  full  of 
horses  and  chariots."   Having  nothing,  they  yet  possess  all  things. 

^  It  has  been  my  lot  to  pay  frequent  visits  to  a  man  who  had 
cancer  in  the  throat.  I  have  watched  the  awful  advances  of  the 
insidious  and  inevitable  disease.  I  have  heard  the  manly  voice 
sink  into  whispers,  and  then  entirely  cease.  And  yet  when 
speech  was  silenced  there  was  a  light  in  the  face  like  the  radiant 
noon.  He  would  take  his  pen  in  hand,  and  write  a  catalogue  of 
the  mercies  by  which  he  was  beset,  and  in  the  contemplation  of 
the  multitude  he  almost  forgot  his  calamity  and  pain.  What  an 
eye  he  had  for  the  benefits  of  the  Lord !  I  went  into  another 
house  which  had  been  suddenly  plunged  in  the  darkness  of 
bereavement.    The  hale  and  genial  father  was  taken  away  in 

*  W.  L.  Watkinson,  The  Education  of  the  Heart,  268. 


PSALM  cxvi.  12-14 


389 


a  day,  and  the  happy  united  family  rudely  broken  up.  And  yet 
as  soon  as  I  opened  the  door,  and  met  the  sorrowing  widow,  these 
were  the  first  words  that  leapt  to  her  lips :  "  How  good  God  has 
been  ! "  Even  in  the  night-time  she  had  been  counting  the  stars, 
and  in  the  awful  pangs  of  bereavement  she  had  felt  the  amazing 
consolations  of  Christ.  What  an  eye  she  had  for  the  benefits  of 
the  Lordli 

IL 

A  Gkateful  Eecifient. 

1.  As  his  grateful  heart  thinks  of  all  God's  benefits  to  him,  the 
Psalmist  feels  at  once  the  impulse  to  requite  and  the  impossibility 
of  doing  so.  With  a  kind  of  glad  despair  he  asks  the  question 
that  ever  springs  to  thankful  lips,  and,  having  nothing  to  give, 
recognizes  the  only  possible  return  to  God  to  be  the  acceptance  of 
the  brimming  chalice  which  His  goodness  commends  to  his  thirst. 
The  great  thought,  then,  which  lies  here  is  that  we  best  requite 
God  by  thankfully  taking  what  He  gives.  The  Psalmist  asks 
what  he  can  render,  and  he  answers  that  he  will  further  take ! 
And  this  is  the  very  essence  of  true  gratitude.  The  best  return 
we  can  make  for  a  gift  of  God  is  to  take  a  higher  gift.  Have  we 
thanked  Him  for  our  daily  bread  ?  Then  the  best  return  we  can 
make  is  to  take  the  bread  of  life.  Have  we  thanked  Him  for  our 
sleep  ?  Then  the  best  return  we  can  make  is  to  take  His  gift  of 
rest  and  peace.  Have  we  thanked  Him  for  our  health?  Then 
the  best  return  we  can  make  is  to  seek  His  gift  of  holiness.  "  I 
will  take  the  finest  thing  upon  the  Lord's  table !  He  has  given 
me  this  gift,  now  I  will  take  a  bigger  gift !  "  We  do  an  ill  thing 
to  our  Lord  if  we  are  profuse  about  His  secondary  gifts  and  leave 
His  best  upon  the  table.  "  My  joy  I  give  unto  you."  Have  we 
taken  that  yet  ?  "  My  peace  I  give  unto  you."  Have  we  taken 
that  yet  ?  "  Glories  upon  glories  hath  our  God  prepared."  And 
the  first  element  in  all  praise  and  worship  is  to  take  the  richer 
gifts  the  Lord  is  offering  unto  us. 

2.  Do  we  not  feel  that  all  the  beauty  and  bloom  of  a  gift  is 
gone  if  the  giver  hopes  to  receive  as  much  again  ?  Do  we  not 
feel  that  it  is  all  gone  if  the  receiver  thinks  of  repaying  it  in  any 

1  J.  H.  Jowett. 


390         WHAT  SHALL  I  RENDER? 


coin  but  that  of  the  heart?  Love  gives  because  it  delights  in 
giving.  It  gives  that  it  may  express  itself  and  may  bless  the 
recipient.  If  there  be  any  thought  of  return,  it  is  only  the  return 
of  love.  That  is  how  God  gives ;  and  we  requite  Him  by  taking 
rather  than  by  giving,  not  merely  because  He  needs  nothing,  and 
we  have  nothing  which  is  not  His.  If  that  were  all,  it  might  be 
as  true  of  an  almighty  tyrant,  and  might  be  so  used  as  to  forbid 
all  worship  before  the  gloomy  presence,  to  give  reverence  and 
love  to  whom  were  as  impertinent  as  the  grossest  offerings  of 
savage  idolaters.  But  the  motive  of  His  giving  to  us  is  the 
deepest  reason  why  our  best  recompense  to  Him  is  our  thankful 
reception  of  His  mercies. 

3.  The  key-note  of  the  highest  and  happiest  life  is  thankful- 
ness. Thankfulness  means  personal  communion  with  God ;  a 
perpetual  longing  to  do  His  will,  an  absorbing  anxiety  not  to 
offend  Him.  Thankfulness  involves  a  passionate  love  for  the 
human  race,  a  deep  sense  of  responsibility  for  our  brothers  and 
sisters  in  God's  royal  family,  active  endeavours  to  allay  the  ills 
around  us.  Thankfulness  necessitates  the  strengthening  and 
refreshing  of  our  immortal  souls  by  every  grace  and  every  agency 
we  can  command.  So  be  thankful !  The  years  that  we  are  here 
are  few  and  fitful.  It  is  worth  taking  some  trouble  to  make  them 
fragrant  and  interesting.  They  may  be  so  if  we  will.  Life  is  full 
of  opportunities ;  it  is  for  us  prayerfully,  profitably,  thankfully,  to 
use  them.  They  may  not  lead  us  to  all  that  we  hope  for ;  they 
may  not  open  upon  realities  we  have  long  sighed  after ;  they  may 
not  help  us  to  gratify  material  aspirations ;  but  they  will  always 
point  us  to  avenues  of  gratitude  and  thankfulness,  to  possibilities 
of  effort  and  goodness.  And  though  there  be  vouchsafed  to  us 
nothing  more  glorious — as  men  count  glory — than  the  elementary 
endowments,  the  ordinary  mercies,  the  commonplace  benefits  of 
life ;  though  fame  and  wealth  and  honour  never  cluster  round  our 
names,  none  the  less — nay,  all  the  more — may  we  lie  down  at  last  j 
in  peace  and  quietly  commend  our  souls  to  Him  who  gave  them,  | 
to  do  for  them  and  with  them  what  He  thinks  wisest  and  best  in 
the  harvest  of  the  hereafter. 

^  There  was  an  expression  which  Samuel  Rutherford  con- 
stantly used — a  "drowned  debtor  to  God's  mercy."    He  meant 


PSALM  cxvi.  12-14 


391 


that  he  was  over  head  and  ears  in  debt  to  God :  he  could  not  tell 
how  deep  his  obligations  were,  so  he  just  called  himself  "a 
drowned  debtor  "  to  the  lovingkindness  and  the  mercy  of  his  God. 

^  The  question  in  the  text  recalls  a  well-known  incident  in 
the  life  of  a  famous  soldier,  who  also  became  a  famous  Christian — 
Colonel  James  Gardiner.  One  night,  when  he  was  little  thinking 
of  Divine  things,  but  on  the  contrary  had  made  an  appointment 
of  the  most  vicious  kind,  he  was  waiting  for  the  appointed  hour, 
when  he  saw,  or  thought  he  saw,  before  him  in  the  room  wherein 
he  sat  alone,  a  visible  representation  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ 
upon  the  cross,  and  he  was  impressed,  as  if  a  voice  had  said  to 
him  to  this  effect — "  0  sinner,  I  did  all  this  for  thee ;  what  hast 
thou  done  for  Me  ? "  The  vision  and  the  words  he  heard  were 
the  means  of  Colonel  Gardiner's  conversion.  The  words  quoted, 
it  may  be  added,  suggested  Frances  Kidley  HavergaFs  well-known 
hymn  beginning : — 

I  gave  My  life  for  thee, 
My  precious  blood  I  shed, 

That  thou  might'st  ransom'd  be, 
And  quicken'd  from  the  dead. 

I  gave  My  life  for  thee; 
What  hast  thou  given  for  Me? 

Miss  Havergal  was  staying  with  a  German  divine,  in  whose  study 
was  a  picture  of  our  crucified  Saviour,  beneath  which  was  placed 
the  motto :  "  I  did  this  for  thee ;  what  hast  thou  done  for  Me  ? " 
She  had  come  in  weary,  and,  sitting  down  in  front  of  the  picture, 
the  Saviour's  eyes  seemed  to  rest  upon  her.  She  read  the  motto, 
and  the  lines  of  her  hymn  flashed  upon  her,  and  she  at  once  wrote 
them  in  pencil  on  a  scrap  of  paper.  Looking  them  over  she 
thought  them  so  poor  that  she  tossed  them  on  the  fire,  but  they 
fell  out  untouched.  Some  months  afterwards  she  showed  them  to 
her  father,  who  encouraged  her  to  preserve  them,  and  he  wrote 
the  tune  "  Baca  "  specially  for  them.  The  hymn  was  published  in 
Good  Words,  and  becoming  a  favourite  soon  found  its  way  into 
the  hymn-books  of  the  Christian  Church.^ 

IIL 

A  Consecrated  Life. 

1.  God  bestows  so  many  blessings  upon  us  that  we  can  in  one 
sense  of  the  word  return  absolutely  nothing  to  Him  for  His  gifts. 
*  Canon  J.  Duncan,  Popular  Hymns,  215. 


392 


WHAT  SHALL  I  RENDER? 


The  Psalmist's  words  imply  this :  I  can  bring  Thee  no  great  gift, 
I  can  lay  no  priceless  offering  at  Thy  feet,  I  have  nothing  that 
is  not  already  Thine  own,  for  all  has  come  from  Thee.  I  will 
take  the  cup  of  salvation.  I  will  accept  Thy  bounteous  mercy 
with  a  thankful  heart.  I  will  seek  to  link  all  my  life  to  Thee. 
This  thought  helps  us  to  meet  a  very  common  temptation.  A 
man  may  realize  something  of  the  goodness  of  God.  He  may 
say  to  himself :  "  If  I  had  very  large  means  like  some  men,  how 
much  I  would  try  to  do  in  return !  I  would  build  a  stately 
cathedral  for  the  service  of  God,  a  noble  house  of  prayer  for  all 
time.  I  would  endow  a  hospital  to  minister  to  human  suffering. 
I  would  put  the  highest  education  within  the  reach  of  the  poorest 
man.  But  I  have  so  little  income,  it  scarcely  overlaps  my  own 
pressing  wants."  Then,  because  he  cannot  do  great  things,  he 
sinks  back  and  does  nothing  at  all.  He  would  reform  an 
empire,  but  does  not  order  his  own  house.  He  dreams  of  cleans- 
ing a  city,  but  never  sweeps  before  his  own  door.  The  Psalmist 
teaches  us  the  true  lesson,  and  shows  us  what  we  may  all  do. 
We  may  give  ourselves  first  of  all,  and  then  the  avenues  of  service 
will  open  out  before  us  according  to  His  will. 

^  Any  dreams  which  she  may  have  harboured  of  literary  dis- 
tinction, she  had  put  resolutely  away  from  her.  "  Oh  God,"  she 
had  written  in  her  diary  at  Cairo,  "  Thou  puttest  into  my  heart 
this  great  desire  to  devote  myself  to  the  sick  and  sorrowful.  1 
offer  it  to  Thee.    Do  with  it  what  is  for  Thy  service."  ^ 

2.  Taking  the  cup  of  salvation,  in  its  simple,  full  meaning, 
expresses  the  pledging  of  our  personality  to  God,  the  consecra- 
tion of  ourselves  to  His  service.  We  recognize  Him  as  Redeemer, 
Deliverer,  and  Friend,  and  acknowledge  ourselves  His  in  life  and 
death.  Our  trustful  heart,  our  acquiescent  will,  our  obedient  life, 
our  whole  personality  must  be  surrendered  in  the  power  of  love. 
Christ  Himself  gave  us  not  only  the  ritual  of  an  ordinance,  but 
the  pattern  for  our  lives,  when  He  "  took  the  cup  and  gave  thanks." 
And  now  for  us  common  joys  become  sacraments,  enjoyment 
becomes  worship,  and  the  cup  which  holds  the  bitter  or  the  sweet 
skilfully  mingled  for  our  lives  becomes  the  cup  of  blessing  and 
salvation  drunk  in  remembrance  of  Him.    If  we  carried  that  spirit 

*  Sir  Ed  wind  Cook,  The  Life  of  Florence  Nightingale^  i.  95. 


PSALM  cxvi.  12-14 


393 


with  us  into  all  our  small  duties,  sorrows,  and  gladnesses,  how 
different  they  would  all  seem  ! 

^  "  Salvation  "  can  scarcely  be  taken  in  its  highest  meaning 
in  our  text,  both  because  the  whole  tone  of  the  psalm  fixes  its 
reference  to  lower  blessings,  and  because  the  word  is  in  the  plural 
in  the  Hebrew.  "The  cup  of  salvations"  expresses,  by  that 
plural  form,  the  fulness  and  variety  of  the  manifold  and  multi- 
form deliverances  which  God  had  wrought  and  was  working  for 
the  Psalmist.  His  whole  lot  in  life  appears  to  him  as  a  cup  full 
of  tender  goodness,  loving  faithfulness,  delivering  grace.  It  runs 
over  with  Divine  acts  of  help  and  sustenance.^ 

3.  Many  cups  may  be  offered  us  as  we  go  through  life.  We 
may  for  the  moment  be  dazzled  by  the  gemmed  and  sparkling 
cup  of  earthly  pleasure,  or  the  cup  of  worldly  aims  and  ambitions. 
Let  us  put  them  aside.  Let  each  one  say,  "  I  will  take  the  cup 
of  salvation."  I  will  accept  and  use  all  God's  offered  mercy.  The 
chalice  of  redeeming  love  shall  be  my  chiefest  treasure.  I  will 
take  it — I  will  seek  to  be  God's  true  child,  the  grateful  son  of  so 
loving  a  Father.  I  will  endeavour  in  all  things  to  do  His  will, 
hoping  to  be  guided  ever  by  His  grace  and  shielded  ever  by  His 
protecting  care. 

•|I  There  is  an  old  legend  of  an  enchanted  cup  filled  with  poison, 
and  put  treacherously  into  a  king's  hand.  He  made  the  sign  of 
the  Cross  and  named  the  name  of  God  over  it,  and  it  shivered  in 
his  grasp.  Do  you  take  that  name  of  the  Lord  as  a  test  ?  Name 
Him  over  many  a  cup  of  which  you  are  eager  to  drink,  and  the 
glittering  fragments  will  lie  at  your  feet,  and  the  poison  be  spilled 
on  the  ground.  What  you  cannot  lift  before  His  pure  eyes  and 
think  of  Him  while  you  enjoy  is  not  for  you.  Friendships,  schemes, 
plans,  ambitions,  amusements,  speculations,  studies,  loves,  busi- 
nesses— can  you  call  on  the  name  of  the  Lord  while  you  put  these 
cups  to  your  lips  ?  If  not,  fling  them  behind  you,  for  they  are 
full  of  poison  which,  for  all  its  sugared  sweetness,  at  the  last  will 
"  bite  like  a  serpent  and  sting  like  an  adder."  2 

*  A.  Maclaren.  *  Ibid. 


394         WHAT  SHALL  I  RENDER? 


IV. 

A  Vow  AND  ITS  Fulfilment. 

When  the  cords  of  death  compassed  the  Psalmist  (ver.  3),  he 
had  made  a  strong  and  secret  vow.  He  said  to  himself,  "  If  I  get 
over  this  I  will  live  a  more  pronounced  life  unto  the  Lord."  "  If 
I  get  my  strength  back,  I  will  use  it  for  the  King."  "  If  I  get  out 
of  this  darkness,  I  will  take  a  lamp  and  light  the  feet  of  other 
men."  And  now  he  is  better  again,  and  he  sets  about  redeeming 
his  vow.  The  midnight  vow  was  redeemed  in  the  morning.  As 
soon  as  he  was  out  of  the  peril  he  remembered  his  covenant. 
"  Now ! "  There  must  be  no  delay.  In  this  sphere  delays  are 
attended  with  infinite  peril.  We  may  trifle  with  anything  rather 
than  with  a  fresh  and  tender  vow.  Well  begun  is  half  done.  And 
he  will  also  surround  the  redemption  of  his  vow  with  publicity. 
He  will  do  something  publicly  which  will  strongly  proclaim  him 
on  God's  side,  and  tell  to  all  men  that  he  has  given  his  devotion 
to  Him.  And  that  must  be  our  way.  The  vow  we  made  in 
secret  must  be  performed  openly.  We  must  do  something  to 
indicate  that  we  have  passed  through  a  great  experience,  and  that 
we  are  remembering  the  benefits  of  the  Lord.  We  can  speak  His 
name  to  another.  We  can  write  some  gracious  letter  to  a  friend. 
We  can  attach  ourselves  publicly  to  the  Master's  Church.  We 
can  commit  ourselves  openly  and  outwardly  as  professed  followers 
of  the  King.  And  wherever  we  are,  throughout  all  our  life, 
we  must  continue  to  pay  our  vows.  In  joy,  in  sorrow,  in  the 
valley,  on  the  mount,  the  vow  must  perpetually  be  redeemed. 
And  if  that  be  our  part,  fervent  and  unbroken,  the  Lord's  part 
will  also  endure.  He  will  continually  be  pouring  His  benefits 
upon  us,  and  we  shall  grow  in  riches  with  every  passing  day. 

^  Hugh  Miller,  in  his  letters,  gives  an  interesting  account 
his  experience.    He  thought  he  was  falling  into  consumption 
that  stone-cutter's  tuberculosis  was  settling  upon  his  lungs 
and,  realizing  that  death  might  not  be  far  away,  he  thought 
living  a  new  and  better  life.    He  had  always  piqued  himself 
being  true  to  his  word.    If  he  passed  his  word  to  a  fellow- workraa 
no  man  could  ever  say  that  he  had  broken  it,  even  if  it  was 
promise  given  to  an  idiot  boy  that  passed  his  time  around  t 


PSALM  cxvi.  12-14 


395 


shed.  To  him  the  promise  was  sacred  and  most  honourably  kept. 
Well,  why  not  pass  his  word  to  God,  why  not  give  a  promise  to 
the  Almighty,  and  then  in  his  native  honesty  begin  a  life  of 
holiness  and  love  ?  Fascinated  with  the  idea,  he  gave  his  solemn 
vow, — alas !  only  to  break  it  and  befool  himself,  and  clothe  his 
soul  with  shame.  He,  so  honest  before  men,  so  staunch  and 
upright  and  true,  found  out  he  was  little  better  than  a  bankrupt 
and  a  liar  in  the  presence  of  the  living  God.  This  led  to  a 
humbling  exercise  of  soul,  and  a  truer  knowledge  of  grace.  The 
lesson  is  a  valuable  one,  and  we  are  slow  to  learn  it.  Our  cold 
dead  vows,  apart  from  God,  are  nothing.^ 

*  R.  Waterston,  Thoughts  on  the  Lord's  Supjper,  136. 


The  Day  which  the  Lord  made. 


397 


Literature. 


Beveridge  (W.),  Theological  Works,  iii.  418. 

Blackley  (T.),  Practical  Sermons,  i.  82. 

Church  (R.  W.),  Village  Sermons,  ii.  142. 

Cottam  (S.  E.),  New  Sermons  for  a  New  Century,  117. 

Frank  (M.),  Sermons,  ii.  112. 

Fuller  (M.),  The  Lord's  Day,  109. 

Hall  (R.),  Works,  v.  380. 

Hutton  (R.  E.),  The  Crown  of  Ch/rist,  ii.  7. 

Kuegele  (F.),  Country  Sermons,  New  Ser.,  v.  1. 

Liddon  (H.  P.),  Easter  in  St.  PauVs,  169. 

■  Maclaren  (A.),  The  Book  of  Psalms  (Expositor's  Bible),  iii.  232. 
Mills  (B.  R.  v.),  The  Marks  of  the  Church,  224. 
Newman  (J.  H.),  Parochial  and  Plain  Sermons,  vi.  94. 
Simcox  (W.  H.),  The  Cessation  of  Prophecy,  310. 

Spurgeon  (C.  H.),  Metropolitan  Tabernacle  Pulpit,  xxiv.  (1878),  No.  1420. 
Strong  (A.  H.),  Miscellanies,  ii.  219. 

Vaughan  (J.),  Sermons  (Brighton  Pulpit),  New  Ser.,  xi.  (1875),  No.  948. 
Wilkinson  (J.  B.),  Mission  Sermons,  i.  176. 

Christian  World   Pulpit,  xi.  314   (R.  Glover);  xxxv.   276  (Canon 
Rowsell). 


398 


The  Day  which  the  Lord  made. 


This  is  the  day  which  the  Lord  hath  made; 

We  will  rejoice  and  be  glad  in  it. — Ps.  cxviii.  24. 

This  is  unmistakably  a  psalm  for  use  in  the  Temple  worship,  and 
was  probably  meant  to  be  sung  antiphonally,  on  some  day  of 
national  rejoicing  indicated  in  the  text.  A  general  concurrence 
of  opinion  points  to  the  period  of  the  restoration  from  Babylon 
as  its  date,  but  different  events  connected  with  that  restoration 
have  been  selected.  The  psalm  implies  the  completion  of  the 
Temple,  and  therefore  shuts  out  any  point  prior  to  that.  Delitzsch 
fixes  on  the  dedication  of  the  Temple  as  the  occasion;  but  the 
view  is  still  more  probable  which  supposes  that  it  was  sung  on 
the  great  celebration  of  the  Feast  of  Tabernacles,  recorded  in 
Neh.  viii.  14-18.  In  later  times  ver.  25  was  the  festal  cry  raised 
while  the  altar  of  burnt-offering  was  solemnly  compassed,  once  on 
each  of  the  first  six  days  of  the  Feast  of  Tabernacles,  and  seven 
times  on  the  seventh. 

1.  Apparently  the  psalm  falls  into  two  halves,  of  which  the 
former  half  (w.  1-16)  seems  to  have  been  sung  as  a  processional 
hymn  while  approaching  the  sanctuary,  and  the  latter  (vv.  17-29), 
partly  at  the  Temple  gates,  partly  by  a  chorus  of  priests  within, 
and  partly  by  the  procession  when  it  had  entered.  Verses  22,  23, 
24  probably  belong  to  the  priestly  chorus.  They  set  forth  the 
great  truth  made  manifest  by  restored  Israel's  presence  in  the 
rebuilt  Temple.  The  metaphor  is  suggested  by  the  incidents  con- 
nected with  the  rebuilding.  The  "stone"  is  obviously  Israel, 
weak,  contemptible,  but  now  once  more  laid  as  the  very  founda- 
tion stone  of  God's  house  in  the  world.  The  broad  truth  taught 
by  its  history  is  that  God  lays  as  the  basis  of  His  building,  i.e., 
uses  for  the  execution  of  His  purposes,  that  which  the  wisdom  of 
man  despises  and  tosses  aside. 

399 


400  THE  DAY  WHICH  THE  LORD  MADE 


2.  The  general  truth  contained  here  is  that  of  St.  Paul's  great 
saying,  "  God  chose  the  weak  things  of  the  world,  that  he  might 
put  to  shame  the  things  that  are  strong."  It  is  a  law  which  finds 
its  highest  exemplification  in  the  foundation  for  God's  true  temple, 
other  than  which  can  no  man  lay.  Israel  is  not  only  a  figure  of 
Christ ;  there  is  an  organic  unity  between  Him  and  them.  What- 
ever, therefore,  is  true  of  Israel  in  a  lower  sense  is  true  in  its 
highest  sense  of  Christ.  If  Israel  is  the  rejected  stone  made  the 
head  of  the  corner,  this  is  far  truer  of  Him  who  was  indeed 
rejected  of  men,  but  chosen  of  God  and  precious,  the  corner  stone 
of  the  one  great  living  temple  of  the  redeemed. 

The  text  is  best  regarded  as  the  continuation  of  the  choral 
praise  in  vv.  22,  23.  "  The  day  "  is  that  of  the  festival  now  in  pro- 
gress, the  joyful  culmination  of  God's  manifold  deliverances.  It  is 
a  day  in  which  joy  is  duty,  and  no  heart  has  a  right  to  be  too 
heavy  to  leap  for  gladness.  Private  sorrows  enough  many  of  the 
jubilant  worshippers  no  doubt  had,  but  the  sight  of  the  Stone  laid 
as  the  head  of  the  corner  should  bring  joy  even  to  such.  If  sad- 
ness was  ingratitude  and  almost  treason  then,  what  sorrow  should 
now  be  so  dense  that  it  cannot  be  pierced  by  the  Light  which 
lighteth  every  man  ? 

3.  In  our  Lord's  time  the  whole  of  this  psalm  was  applied  to 
the  Messiah  by  the  Jewish  interpreters.  Christ  was  the  Stone, 
refused  by  the  builders  of  Israel,  but  afterwards  made  the  Head 
of  the  corner.  His  was  the  welcome,  "  Blessed  is  he  that  cometh 
in  the  name  of  the  Lord";  to  Him  was  addressed  the  prayer, 
"Hosanna,  save,  I  pray,"  as  on  Palm  Sunday,  by  the  Jewish 
multitude.  Thus  it  was  very  natural  for  the  Christian  Church  to 
find  in  the  words,  "  This  is  the  day  which  the  Lord  hath  made ; 
we  will  rejoice  and  be  glad  in  it,"  an  application  to  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ.  What  was  the  day  in  Christ's  life  which  He  made 
His  own,  beyond  all  others  ?  Not  His  birthday  ;  for  that  meant 
His  entrance  on  a  life  of  sorrows.  Not  His  ascension  day ;  for 
that  was  the  closing  scene  of  a  triumph  already  achieved.  Not 
His  transfiguration  day;  it  was  a  momentary  flash  of  glory 
in  a  career  of  pain.  Not  the  day  of  His  crucifixion;  it  was  a 
great  day  for  a  ruined  world,  but  for  Him  it  marked  the  lowest 
stage  of  humiliation  and  of  woe.    The  day  of  days  in  the  life  of 


PSALM  cxviii.  24 


401 


Christ  was  the  day  of  His  resurrection.  It  reflected  a  new  glory 
on  the  day  of  His  birth.  It  witnessed  a  triumph  of  which  the 
ascension  was  but  a  completion.  It  was  to  the  transfiguration 
what  the  sunrise  is  to  the  earliest  dawn.  It  poured  a  flood  of 
light  and  meaning  on  Calvary  itself ;  and  showed  that  what  took 
place  there  was  not  simply  the  death-scene  of  an  innocent  Sufferer, 
but  a  sacrifice  which  would  have  power  with  God  to  the  end  of  time. 

Something  of  this  kind  is  what  was  felt  by  the  early  Christians 
about  Easter  Day ;  and  as  it  was  the  greatest  day  in  the  life  of 
Jesus  Christ,  so  for  them  it  was  the  greatest  day  in  the  whole 
year.  It  was  the  day  of  days;  it  was  the  Lord's  Own  Day. 
Every  Lord's  Day  in  the  year  was  a  weekly  feast  of  Christ's  rising 
from  the  dead ;  on  Easter  Day,  the  force  and  meaning  of  all  these 
Lord's  Days  were  gathered  into  one  consummate  expression  of  joy 
and  praise.  "This  is  the  day  which  the  Lord  hath  made;  we 
will  rejoice  and  be  glad  in  it." 

The  song  of  the  angels,  the  voice  at  the  baptism,  the  agony 
in  the  garden,  the  sublime  anguish  of  Calvary,  would  have  been 
inexplicable  without  the  light  which  was  reflected  back  upon  them 
by  the  angels  at  the  open  tomb  on  the  morning  of  the  resurrec- 
tion.^  Such  a  nature  and  such  a  life  were  not  formed  and  fashioned 
within  the  narrow  limits  of  time  and  space ;  they  brought  infinity 
and  immortality  within  the  confines  of  the  world.  Alone  among 
men,  Christ  has  visibly  put  on  immortality;  but  that  sublime 
truth  does  not  rest  on  the  resurrection;  it  rests  on  the  very 
structure  of  man's  nature  and  life.  Neither  is  comprehensible 
without  it;  neither  is  ever  complete  in  itself;  both  affirm  its 
reality  and  predict  its  fuller  disclosure.  The  risen  Christ  does 
not  stand  solitary  in  a  vast  circle  of  unopened  graves ;  He  is  the 
visible  witness  to  the  sublime  truth  that  the  grave  has  no  victory 
and  death  no  sting;  for  life  and  immortality  are  one  and  the 
same.i 

Oh,  had  I  lived  in  that  great  day, 

How  had  its  glory  new 
Fill'd  earth  and  heaven,  and  caught  away 

My  ravish'd  spirit  too! 

No  thoughts  that  to  the  world  belong 

Had  stood  against  the  wave 
Of  love  v/hich  set  so  deep  and  strong 
From  Christ's  then  open  grave. 
>  H.  W.  Mabie,  The  Life  of  the  Spirit,  360. 
PS.  xxv.-cxix. — 26 


402  THE  DAY  WHICH  THE  LORD  MADE 


No  cloister-floor  of  humid  stone 

Had  been  too  cold  for  me; 
For  me  no  Eastern  desert  lone 

Had  been  too  far  to  flee.^ 

I. 

A  Day  of  Victory. 

The  joy  of  Easter  is  inspired  by  the  hope  which  the  day  of  our 
Lord's  resurrection  warrants  and  quickens.  What  is  this  hope, 
and  how  does  it  spring  from  our  Saviour's  rising  again  from  the 
dead  ?  The  great  hope  which  the  resurrection  sets  before  us  is 
the  completeness  of  our  life  after  death. 

1.  The  difficulty  of  believing  in  a  future  life  is  due,  not  to 
the  reason,  but  to  the  imagination  as  controlled  by  the  senses. 
Who  of  us  has  not  made  this  discovery,  in  some  one  of  those  dark 
hours  which  sooner  or  later  visit  every  human  life  ?  Who  of  us 
has  not  stood  by  the  open  coffin,  and  felt  himself,  or  marked  how 
others  feel,  the  terrific  empire  of  sense  in  the  presence  of  death  ? 
The  form  which  was  once  full  of  life,  quivering  with  expressive- 
ness, with  thought,  with  feeling,  now  lies  before  us  cold  and 
motionless,  like  a  plaster  cast  of  its  former  self.  Perhaps  the 
traces  of  what  must  follow  are  already  discernible ;  and  forthwith 
the  imagination  surrenders  itself,  like  a  docile  pupil,  to  the 
guidance  of  the  senses,  and  ends  by  proclaiming  the  victory  of 
death ;  a  victory  too  clear,  too  complete,  too  unquestionable,  to 
allow  reason  or  revelation  to  raise  their  voices  in  favour  of  any 
sort  of  life  that  can  possibly  survive  it. 

2.  Now  it  was  to  deal  with  this  specific  difficulty  that  our 
Lord  willed  to  die,  and  then,  by  a  literal  bodily  resurrection,  to 
rise  from  the  grave.  He  would  grapple  with  the  imperious 
urgency  of  the  senses  and  the  imagination  on  their  own  ground. 
He  would  beat  down  by  an  act,  palpable  to  the  senses,  and  attested 
by  evidence  which  should  warrant  its  reality  for  all  time,  the 
tyrant  power  which  sought  to  shut  out  from  man  the  hope  of  an 

^  Matthew  Arnold,  Elegiac  Poems. 


PSALM  cxviii.  24 


403 


immortal  life.  When  the  disciples  saw  that  the  Eisen  Being 
before  them  was  their  Lord ;  when  they  noted  His  pierced  hands, 
His  feet,  His  side ;  when  they  conversed  with  Him,  ate  with  Him, 
listened  to  Him,  followed  Him  much  as  of  old ;  then  they  knew 
that  the  Master  who  had  been  killed  upon  the  cross  by  a  pro- 
tracted agony,  and  committed  to  the  grave  as  a  bleeding  and 
mangled  corpse,  had  really  risen  from  death,  and  had  opened 
a  new  era  of  hope  for  the  human  race.  And  for  us,  in  a  distant 
age,  this  fact  that  Christ  rose  from  death  is  not  less  full  of 
precious  hope  and  joy  than  for  our  first  forefathers  in  the  faith. 
For  the  early  Christians  the  resurrection  was  practically  Christi- 
anity, nay,  the  whole  of  Christianity,  in  so  far  as  Christianity  as 
a  whole  rested  on  it  as  the  proof-fact  of  its  having  come  from 
heaven.  This  is  what  the  first  Christians  felt:  of  the  truth  of 
their  faith  "  God  had  given  an  assurance  unto  all  men,  in  that  he 
had  raised  Jesus  from  the  dead."  Therefore  did  the  resurrection 
inspire  them  with  such  fervent  joy. 

^  If  it  belong  to  man  to  rejoice  when  some  great  General  has 
fought  his  country's  enemies,  and  beaten  them  and  led  their  chiefs 
captives ;  if  on  such  occasions  our  bells  ring,  and  our  cities  are 
decked  with  garlands,  and  flags  wave,  and  there  are  feastings  and 
banquetings, 

And  the  tumult  of  their  acclaim  is  rolled 

Through  the  open  gates  of  the  city  afar, 

To  the  shepherd  who  watcheth  the  evening  star, 

if  a  nation  joys  in  the  return  of  the  triumphant  General,  and 
hearts  are  warmed  all  through  the  length  and  breadth  of  the  land 
at  the  news,  as  by  electric  sympathy,  and  all  agree  to  make 
holiday,  because  now  the  yoke  of  the  invader  has  been  broken, 
and  they  feel  themselves  free — and  hearth,  and  home,  and  wife, 
and  child,  and  all  that  they  hold  dear  is  rescued  out  of  peril,  and 
the  possession  secured  to  them — how  much  more  surely  ought 
the  Christian  to  be  glad  and  rejoice  on  each  recurrence  of  Easter  ? 
For  it  is  the  anniversary  of  the  Lord's  Victory.  He  comes  to  us 
as  the  Captain  of  our  Salvation,  comes  amongst  us  fresh  from 
combat,  "with  dyed  garments  from  Bozrah,"  "treading  in  the 
greatness  of  his  strength";  He  comes,  leading  the  Invader  a 
prisoner,  leading  captivity  captive.^ 

1  R.  D.  B.  Rawnsley. 


404  THE  DAY  WHICH  THE  LORD  MADE 


IL 

A  Day  of  Rejoicing. 

1.  The  joy  of  Easter  is  the  joy  of  a  great  certainty.  The 
resurrection  of  our  Saviour  is  the  fact  which  makes  an  intelligent 
Christian  certain  of  the  truth  of  his  creed.  The  Apostles  entered 
on  their  work  with  one  conviction,  prominent  beyond  all  others. 
It  was  that  the  truth  of  Christianity,  and  its  claim  upon  the 
minds  and  hearts  of  men,  depended  mainly  upon  the  fact  of  the 
resurrection  of  Christ  from  the  dead.  Within  a  few  weeks  of 
the  occurrence,  and  amidst  a  population  passionately  interested  in 
denying  the  truth  of  what  they  said,  they  took  every  opportunity 
of  virtually  saying,  "  Christianity  is  true ;  it  is  true  because 
Christ  has  risen  from  death."  They  could  not  have  ventured  to 
do  this  unless  they  had  been  sure  of  the  fact  upon  which  they 
were  so  ready  to  risk  everything,  even  life  itself ;  sure,  with  that 
sort  of  certainty  which  comes  from  actual  experience. 

^  To  my  mind,  the  spiritual  miracle  of  the  Crucifixion  was 
an  infinitely  greater  miracle  than  the  physical  miracle  of  the 
Resurrection — a  much  more  impressive  evidence  of  the  actual 
mingling  of  the  Divine  with  the  human.  It  is  strange  that  a 
world  which  can  accept  heartily  the  one  should  find  it  so  difficult, 
and  in  some  cases  so  impossible,  to  accept  the  other.  This  implies, 
I  think,  that  what  it  does  accept  it  accepts  without  any  true 
insight  into  the  wonder  and  majesty  of  the  personal  manifestation 
the  reality  of  which  it  professes  to  recognize.  Certainly  ours  is  a 
superstitious  age,  though  superstitious  rather  in  the  excess  of  its 
respect  for  the  physical  energies  of  the  universe,  than  in  the 
excess  of  its  respect  for  the  spiritual.^ 

2.  It  is  always  very  difficult  to  realize  any  great  joy  or  great 
sorrow.  We  cannot  realize  it  by  wishing  to  do  so.  What  brings 
joys  and  sorrows  of  this  world  home  to  us  is  their  circumstances 
and  accompaniments.  When  a  friend  dies,  we  cannot  at  first  | 
believe  him  taken  from  us ;  we  cannot  believe  ourselves  to  be  in  any 
new  place  when  we  are  just  come  to  it.  When  we  are  told  a  thing, 
we  assent  to  it,  we  do  not  doubt  it,  but  we  do  not  feel  it  to  be  true, 
we  do  not  understand  it  as  a  fact  which  must  take  up  a  position 

*  R.  H.  Hut  ton,  Asjiects  of  Rdigiom  and  Scientific  Thought,  163. 


PSALM  cxviii.  24 


405 


or  station  in  our  thoughts,  and  must  be  acted  from  and  acted 
towards,  must  be  dealt  with  as  existing :  that  is,  we  do  not  realize 
it.  It  cannot  be  denied  that  we  have  much  to  do,  very  much, 
before  we  rise  to  the  understanding  of  our  new  nature  and  its 
privileges,  and  learn  to  rejoice  and  be  glad  in  the  day  which  the 
Lord  hath  made;  "the  eyes  of  your  understanding  being  enlightened 
that  ye  may  know  what  is  the  hope  of  his  calling,  and  what  the 
riches  of  the  glory  of  his  inheritance  in  the  saints,  and  what  is 
the  exceeding  greatness  of  his  power  to  us-ward  who  believe, 
according  to  the  working  of  his  mighty  power,  which  he  wrought 
in  Christ,  when  he  raised  him  from  the  dead,  and  set  him  at  his 
own  right  hand  in  the  heavenly  places." 

^  Unbelief  once  wrote  at  the  entrance  of  a  cemetery  the  word 
"  Fuerunt,"  "  They  have  been."  Faith  always  writes  over  the  gate 
of  a  churchyard,  "  I  am  the  Eesurrection  and  the  Life."  To 
unbelief  the  dead  are  but  memories ;  memories  of  beings  who  have 
ceased  to  be.  To  faith  the  dead  are  living,  working,  praying 
friends,  whom  nothing  but  the  dulness  of  sense  hides  from  sight.^ 

3.  The  joy  of  Easter  is  the  joy  of  a  great  reaction :  a  reaction 
from  anxiety  and  sorrow.  So  it  was  at  the  time  of  Christ's 
resurrection.  The  Apostles  had  been  crushed  by  the  sufferings 
and  death  of  Jesus  Christ.  They  had  trusted  that  it  was  "he 
which  should  have  redeemed  Israel."  Their  disappointment,  their 
despondency,  their  anguish  were  exactly  proportioned  to  their 
earlier  hopes.  When  He  was  in  His  grave,  all  seemed  over ;  and 
when  He  appeared,  first  to  one,  and  then  to  another,  on  the  day 
of  His  resurrection,  they  could  not  keep  their  feelings  of  welcome 
and  delight — traversed  though  these  were  by  a  sense  of  wondering 
awe — within  anything  like  bounds.  It  was  a  change  from  dark- 
ness to  light,  from  fear  to  hope,  from  death  to  endless  life,  for  the 
world  at  large.  Those  who  first  felt  it,  and  rejoiced,  are  long 
since  gathered  to  their  rest ;  but  others  came  after  them,  to  whom 
it  was  just  as  really  a  cause  of  joy  as  to  the  women  who  were 
early  at  the  tomb  ;  and  to  us  at  this  present  time,  separated  by 
nineteen  hundred  years  from  the  Apostles  and  followers  of  the 
risen  Son  of  God,  His  rising  again  is  quite  as  much  a  matter  to 
encourage  us  to  triumphant  faith,  to  comfort  us  in  trouble  and  in 
death,  as  it  was  to  them. 

»  H.  P.  Liddon,  EasUr  in  St.  Faults,  178 


4o6  THE  DAY  WHICH  THE  LORD  MADE 


^  Finding  that  one  of  his  children  had  been  greatly  shocked 
and  overcome  by  the  first  sight  of  death,  he  tenderly  endeavoured 
to  remove  the  feeling  which  had  been  awakened,  and  opening  a 
Bible,  pointed  to  the  words,  "  Then  cometh  Simon  Peter  following 
him,  and  went  into  the  sepulchre,  and  seeth  the  linen  clothes  lie, 
and  the  napkin,  that  was  about  his  head,  not  lying  with  the  linen 
clothes,  but  wrapped  together  in  a  place  by  itself."  Nothing,  he 
said,  to  his  mind,  afforded  us  such  comfort  when  shrinking  from 
the  outward  accompaniments  of  death, — the  grave,  the  grave- 
clothes,  the  loneliness, — as  the  thought  that  all  these  had  been 
around  our  Lord  Himself,  round  Him  who  died,  and  is  now  alive 
for  evermore.^ 

4.  The  joy  of  Easter  is  the  holy  joy  of  quiet  triumph,  of  hymns 
of  victory  and  exulting  faith.  The  Lord  is  risen !  What  more 
can  the  glad  Church  of  the  redeemed  say  ?  She  can  only  repeat 
it  again  and  again  with  multiplied  Alleluias.  Words  seem  out  of 
place,  for  the  joy  of  the  Church  is  too  deep  to  express  itself  in  the 
ordinary  language  of  the  world — and  yet  it  is  to  the  world  that 
she  brings  the  glad  tidings  of  the  victory  of  her  Lord.  No  wonder 
then  that  the  earth  is  glad  and  beautiful  in  this  foregleam  of  the 
coming  day,  when  He  shall  fulfil  His  promise,  "  Behold,  I  make  all 
things  new."  Even  in  the  order  of  nature  there  is  nothing  but 
joy  and  the  coming  of  new  life  in  the  spring-time  of  the  world. 
The  very  air  is  full  of  the  songs  of  the  birds,  and  fragrant  with 
the  first  fresh  scents  of  the  forests  and  meadows,  as  they  clothe 
themselves  again  with  foliage  and  verdure  after  the  long  days  of 
wintry  gloom,  decay  and  death. 

See  the  world's  beauty  budding  forth  anew, 
Shows  with  the  Lord  His  gifts  returning  too ! 
The  earth  with  flowers  is  deck'd,  the  sky  serene; 
The  heavenly  portals  glow  with  brighter  sheen. 
The  greenwood-leaves,  the  flowering  meadows  tell 
Of  Christ,  triumphant  over  gloomy  hell. 
Hail!  Festal  Day!  for  evermore  ador'd, 
Wherein  God  conquer'd  hell,  and  upward  soar'd. 

^  Be  sure  there  is  a  unity  of  Law  in  the  universe,  and  if  in 
that  which  we  call  the  natural  world  there  is  one  consisten 
thought  producing  one  consistent  fact,  the  same  thought  hoi 

*  A.  P.  Stanley,  Life  of  Thomas  Arnold^  D.B.y  i.  219. 


PSALM  cxviii.  24 


407 


good  in  the  world  of  Man ;  and  the  life  which  we  possess  when  we 
die — the  life  which  is  in  thought,  feeling,  will,  and  the  rest — will 
frame  for  itself,  as  quickly,  as  individually,  as  eagerly,  a  new  form 
as  the  seed  in  spring  has  done  when  we  see  its  twofold  arrow 
cleave  the  ground.  This  will  be  the  resurrection,  and  of  the  great 
law  of  which  this  is  the  outcome,  the  result  of  which  we  see  in 
Nature,  in  all  things — the  result  of  which  we  do  not  see  in  Man — 
for  its  result  in  us  is  wrought  after  death — the  resurrection  of 
Christ  is  the  only  known  result  in  humanity.  The  life  in 
Christ  took  new  form  when  His  earthly  body  died,  and  the  fact 
that  it  had  done  so  was  revealed  to  His  disciples.  They  knew 
He  was  alive  again,  and  had  a  new  and  living  form — that  on  the 
death  of  His  mortal  body,  an  immortal  form  became  His  own. 
He  was  not  unclothed,  but  clothed  upon.  Properly  speaking,  that 
is  no  miracle,  if  miracle  be  defined  as  the  violation  or  transcending 
of  law.  It  is,  in  my  mind,  that  which  always  takes  place  in  the 
other  world  when  we  die;  shown  to  us  in  this  world  for  once,  that 
we  might  know  it.  It  is  not  a  reversion,  it  is  a  revelation,  of  law  ; 
it  is  not  apart  from  our  knowledge,  it  is  the  declarations  that  the 
same  idea  that  rules  the  growth  of  life  in  the  world  of  Nature 
rules  its  growth  in  the  world  of  Man.  The  resurrection  of  the 
body  is  the  renewing  of  form.^ 

The  yearly  miracle  of  spring, 

Of  budding  tree  and  blooming  flower, 

Which  Nature's  feathered  laureates  sing 
In  my  cold  ear  from  hour  to  hour, 

Spreads  all  its  wonders  round  my  feet; 

And  every  wakeful  sense  is  fed 
On  thoughts  that  o'er  and  o'er  repeat, 

"  The  Eesurrection  of  the  Dead  ! " 

If  these  half  vital  things  have  force 

To  break  the  spell  which  winter  weaves, 

To  wake,  and  clothe  the  wrinkled  corse 
In  the  full  life  of  shining  leaves; 

Shall  I  sit  down  in  vague  despair, 

And  marvel  if  the  nobler  soul 
We  laid  in  earth  shall  ever  dare 

To  wake  to  life,  and  backward  roll 
^  Stopford  A.  Brooke. 


4o8  THE  DAY  WHICH  THE  LORD  MADE 


The  sealing  stone,  and  striding  out, 

Claim  its  eternity,  and  head 
Creation  once  again,  and  shout, 

"The  Eesurrection  of  the  Dead"?i 

IIL 

A  Day  of  Eemembrance. 

1.  Christ's  resurrection  has  not  become  less  important  by  the 
passage  of  years ;  its  virtue  is  not  diminished,  its  grace  and  power 
are  not  worn  out.  If  Christ  had  indeed  risen  this  very  morning. 
His  resurrection  would  not  be  in  reality  of  more  concern  to  us 
than  it  is  now.  Christ  is  risen — risen  never  to  die  again,  to  be 
for  ever  that  which  He  was  the  first  moment  when  He  conquered 
death.  He  is  there  above,  the  Saviour  who  could  not  be  kept  in 
captivity  by  the  grave ;  the  very  same  who  spoke  to  Mary 
Magdalene,  and  reproved  the  doubting  Thomas,  and  talked  on  the 
way  to  Emmaus,  and  broke  bread  on  the  sea-shore.  And  what 
was  true  of  Him  then  is  true  now  ;  what  could  be  said  of  Him  then 
can  be  said  now ;  what  He  did  then  for  those  who  loved  Him  and 
believed  Him,  He  can  do  now ;  what  they  felt  towards  Him — the 
rejoicing  and  the  glorying  trust,  and  the  conquering  comfort  and 
strength — it  is  ours  to  choose  whether  we  shall  not  feel  it  too. 
The  Light  which  broke  on  men  on  that  third  day,  shines  as 
brightly  on  all  believing  hearts  now  as  it  did  on  St.  Peter  and 
St.  John,  not  a  mere  remembrance  of  past  glory  and  gladness,  but 
an  unfailing  and  uninterrupted  spring  of  present  hope  and 
strength.  And  it  will  shine  long  after  we  are  gone,  to  cheer  the 
hearts  and  raise  the  joy  of  our  children,  and  of  all  the  unborn 
generations  to  the  end  of  the  world. 

^  It  is  the  one  inspiring  element  of  Christianity  that  it  throws 
us  in  boundless  hope  upon  the  future,  and  forbids  us  to  dwell  in 
the  poisonous  shadows  of  the  past.  A  new  and  better  growth  is 
before  us,  a  fresher,  a  diviner,  a  more  enthusiastic  life  awaits  us. 
"We  are  to  wake  up  satisfied  in  the  likeness  of  Christ,  the  ever 
young  Humanity.  Therefore,  "  forgetting  those  things  which  are 
behind,"  let  us  "press  forward  to  the  mark  of  the  prize  of  our 
high  calling  in  Christ  Jesus."  ^ 
1  George  Henry  Boker,  The  Book  of  the  Dead,  147.  *  Stopford  A.  Brooke. 


PSALM  cxviii.  24 


409 


The  women  sought  the  tomb  at  dawn  of  day, 

And  as  they  went  they  wept  and  made  their  moan: 

"  His  sepulchre  is  guarded  by  a  stone, 
And  who  for  us  shall  roll  the  stone  away  ? " 
But  lo  ! — an  Angel,  robed  in  white  array, 

Had  rent  the  rock  and  sat  thereon  alone. 

"  Fear  not,"  said  he ;  "  the  Lord  hath  overthrown 
The  power  of  Death :  I  show  you  where  He  lay." 
We  echo  oftentimes  that  cry  of  old: 

Huge  stumbling-blocks  confront  us  whilst  we  wait 
And  wonder,  weeping,  who  will  help  afford : 
But  as  we  question  sorrowing,  behold  ! 

The  stone  is  rolled  away,  though  it  is  great, 
And  on  it  sits  the  Angel  of  the  Lord.^ 

2.  The  resurrection  of  Christ  was  to  His  early  followers  a  call, 
a  call  louder  than  that  of  the  trumpet  on  Mount  Sinai,  to  newness 
of  life  and  newness  of  hope.  It  called  men  of  old  when  it  was 
first  preached ;  it  calls  men  still,  now  that  its  remembrance  never 
ceases  among  us.  It  calls  aloud  to  newness  of  life,  it  calls  on  the 
sinner  and  the  careless  to  arise  from  the  death  of  sin  to  the  life  of 
righteousness  ;  it  cries  aloud,  "  Awake  thou  that  sleepest,  and 
arise  from  the  dead,  and  Christ  shall  give  thee  light."  We  know 
how  it  made  St.  Paul  cry  out,  "  If  ye  then  be  risen  with  Christ, 
seek  those  things  which  are  above,  where  Christ  sitteth  on  the 
right  hand  of  God."  "  In  that  he  died,  he  died  unto  sin  once : 
but  in  that  he  liveth,  he  liveth  unto  God.  Likewise  reckon  ye 
also  yourselves  to  be  dead  indeed  unto  sin,  but  alive  unto  God 
through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord."  These  were  the  feelings,  these 
were  the  thoughts,  which  came  into  the  minds  of  the  first 
believers  in  Christ.  They  felt  how  much  they  had  to  do  with  the 
resurrection.  It  had  weaned  them  from  sin;  it  strengthened 
them,  day  by  day,  in  all  holiness  and  love.  The  resurrection  had 
changed  everything  to  them,  and  they  lived  as  men  to  whom  this 
world  had  become  nothing  except  a  place  to  live  in  holily,  where 
they  might  love  and  serve  their  brethren,  and  wait  patiently  God's 
will,  till  their  call  came  to  that  world  and  home  which  was  to  be 
for  ever.  Christ's  resurrection  calls  us  also  not  only  to  begin  a 
new  life,  but  to  go  on  with  it,  with  renewed  zeal  and  carefulness, 
if  by  His  grace  we  have  begun  it.    It  reminds  us  once  more  how 

*  Ellen  Thorneycroft  Fowler,  Verses,  Wise  or  Otherwise,  197. 


4IO  THE  DAY  WHICH  THE  LORD  MADE 


mighty  to  save,  how  unwearied  to  uphold  and  help,  is  He  whom 
we  have  for  our  Leader  and  Guide  through  life.  He,  if  we  are 
trusting  Him,  is  One  who  has  broken  the  bands  of  death,  who  is 
in  truth  the  Watcher  of  our  way,  and  the  Director  of  our  steps ; 
He  is  One  who  has  endured  and  conquered — endured  all  and 
conquered  all — to  lend  us  of  His  strength,  to  feed  our  faintness 
with  His  renewed  life,  to  show  us  of  that  truth  and  light  which 
He  has  won  for  men.  We  have  only  to  go  to  Him  for  it.  We 
have  only  to  go  straight  forward  in  the  way  of  obedience  and 
holiness,  and  we  need  not  fear  that  we  shall  fail. 

3.  There  may  still  be  for  each  of  us  many  anxieties,  many 
sorrows,  many  bitter  disappointments  and  griefs  in  life  ;  for  God 
does  not  promise  tranquillity,  but  quite  the  opposite.  Yet  in  spite 
of  all  this  there  will  be  joy  in  God,  and  peace,  and  rest,  through 
the  abiding  union  with  Him  who  is  "  our  peace."  As  we  conquer 
sin  we  grow  in  likeness  to  Jesus  Christ ;  and  as  we  become  like 
Him  we  share,  through  an  ever-growing  closeness  of  union,  the 
joy,  the  peace,  and  the  brightness  of  the  resurrection  life.  "  I  will 
see  you  again,  and  your  heart  shall  rejoice,  and  your  joy  no  man 
taketh  from  you."  As  children  say  to  themselves,  "  This  is  the 
spring,"  or  "  This  is  the  sea,"  trying  to  grasp  the  thought  and  not 
let  it  go  ;  as  travellers  in  a  foreign  land  say,  "  This  is  that  great 
city,"  or  "  This  is  that  famous  building,"  knowing  it  has  a  long 
history  through  centuries,  and  vexed  with  themselves  that  they 
know  so  little  about  it ;  so  let  us  say.  This  is  the  Day  of  Days, 
the  Royal  Day,  the  Lord's  Day.  This  is  the  day  on  which  Christ 
rose  from  the  dead ;  the  day  which  brought  us  salvation.  It  is 
a  day  which  has  made  us  greater  than  we  know.  It  is  our  Day 
of  Eest,  the  true  Sabbath.  We  have  had  enough  of  weariness, 
and  dreariness,  and  listlessness,  and  sorrow,  and  remorse.  We 
have  had  enough  of  this  troublesome  world.  We  have  had 
enough  of  its  noise  and  din.  Noise  is  its  best  music.  But  now 
there  is  a  stillness  that  speaks.  We  know  how  strange  the 
feeling  is  of  perfect  silence  after  continued  sound.  Such  is  our 
blessedness  now.  Calm  and  serene  days  have  begun ;  and  Christ 
is  heard  in  them,  and  His  still  small  voice,  because  the  world 
speaks  not.  Let  us  only  put  off  the  world,  and  we  put  on 
Christ.    The  receding  from  one  is  an  approach  to  the  other. 


PSALM  cxviii.  24 


411 


May  we  grow  in  grace,  and  in  the  knowledge  of  our  Lord  and 
Saviour,  season  after  season,  year  after  year,  till  He  takes  to 
Himself,  first  one,  then  another,  in  the  order  He  thinks  fit,  to  be 
separated  from  each  other  for  a  little  while,  to  be  united  together 
for  ever,  in  the  Kingdom  of  His  Father  and  our  Father,  His  God 
and  our  God. 

^  When  one  says,  "  Lord,  I  believe,"  in  Jesus'  sense,  he 
means  that  he  trusts — a  very  different  thing.  Jesus'  physical 
Eesurrection,  in  the  same  way,  is  a  question  that  can  be  decided 
only  by  evidence,  and  is  within  the  province  of  reason.  His 
spiritual  Eesurrection  is  a  drama  of  the  soul,  and  a  matter  of 
faith.  When  I  declare  my  belief  that  on  the  third  day  Jesus 
rose,  I  am  really  yielding  to  evidence.  When  I  am  crucified 
with  Christ,  buried  with  Christ,  and  rise  to  newness  of  life 
in  Christ,  I  am  believing  after  the  very  sense  of  Jesus.^ 

*  John  Watson,  The  Mind  of  the  Master. 


\ 


The  Clean  Path. 


4*3 


Literature. 


Cox  (S.),  The  Bird's  Nest,  131. 

Gumming  (J.  E.),  in  Convention  Addresses  delivered  at  Bridge  of  Allan, 
1895,  p.  59. 

Griffin  (E.  D.),  Plain  Practical  Sermons,  ii.  465. 
Hopps  (J.  P.),  Sermons  of  Love  and  Life,  65. 
Leitch  (R.),  The  Light  of  the  Gentiles,  157. 
Maclaren  (A.),  Expositions  :  Psalms  li.-cxlv.,  281. 
Murphy  (J.  B.  C),  The  Service  of  the  Master,  9. 
Norton  (J.  N.),  Warning  and  Teaching,  140. 
.Simeon  (C),  Works,  vi.  302. 
Smith  (W.  C),  Sermons,  146. 
Voysey  (C),  Sermons,  xxi.  (1898),  No.  22. 
Wiseman  (N.),  Children's  Sermons,  205. 

Christian  World  Pulpit,  xii.  198  (A.  P.  Peabody)  ;  xxiv.  90  (H.  W. 

Beechcr)  ;  xxix.  315  (H,  W.  Beecher). 
Church  Pulpit  Year  Book,  1911,  p.  271. 
Preacher's  Magazine^  iv.  272  (J.  Feather). 


4T4 


The  Clean  Path. 


Wherewithal  shall  a  young  man  cleanse  his  way? 

By  taking  heed  thereto  according  to  thy  word. — Ps.  cxix.  9. 

1.  It  is  a  great  matter  to  know  what  is  the  right  question  to 
put,  and  how  to  put  it  rightly.  The  secrets  of  nature  disclose 
themselves  to  the  man  who  knows  how  to  question  her  properly ; 
for  he  is  already  on  the  line  of  its  solution  when  he  sees  clearly 
what  the  exact  problem  is.  So  also  in  any  discussion,  he  who 
can  lay  aside  all  extraneous  and  irrelevant  matter,  and  put  his 
finger  on  the  real  point  at  issue,  has  already  half  won  the  battle ; 
for  our  errors  mainly  arise  from  our  mixing  up  of  what  is  essential 
with  subordinate  points,  the  settlement  of  which  is  of  no  vital 
consequence.  It  is  the  same  in  the  affairs  of  practical  life. 
There,  too,  it  is  all-important  to  put  clearly  before  our  minds 
what  is  the  supreme  question  we  have  to  deal  with  as  moral  and 
responsible  beings.  Our  character  will  depend  on  the  answer 
to  that,  but  the  answer  will  not  be  difficult  if  we  put  the  question 
rightly.  Here  we  are,  for  a  few  short  years,  in  a  world  of 
struggle  and  conflict,  having  duties  to  ourselves  and  to  each 
other  and  to  God,  having  also  various  endowments  and  various 
temptations.  What  is  the  line  of  thought  which  should  press 
on  each  of  us  as  the  supreme  matter  for  our  most  serious 
consideration  ?  What  is  the  question  which  every  young  man 
should  put  to  himself  as  he  looks  out  on  the  troubled  sea  of  life 
with  which  he  has  to  battle,  and  where  he  may  make  shipwreck 
if  he  take  not  heed  ? 

2.  The  question  of  our  text,  "Wherewithal  shall  a  young 

man  cleanse  his  way  ? "  if  not  absolutely  the  foremost,  is  yet 

among  the  weightiest  thoughts  which  we  should  be  laying  to 

heart.    There  are,  no  doubt,  still  graver  questions  which  we 

will  do  well  to  put  to  ourselves.    What  is  the  chief  end  of 

415 


4i6 


THE  CLEAN  PATH 


man?  What  is  that  by  failing  to  achieve  which  we  shall  lose 
the  very  object  of  our  existence  ?  Or,  again,  What  shall  a  man 
do  to  be  saved  ?  or  yet  further,  Wherewithal  shall  a  young  man 
cleanse  his  heart?  These  are  points  of  still  greater  moment, 
and  carry  deeper  results  than  the  question  of  the  Psalmist  here. 
At  bottom,  no  doubt,  he  had  in  view  the  cleansing  of  the  heart 
as  well  as  of  the  way ;  for  his  was  no  shallow  spirit,  that  cared 
only  for  mere  outside  behaviour.  The  Psalmist  knew  that  we 
must  begin  by  purifying  the  fountain  if  the  stream  is  to  be 
made  pure.  But  the  question,  as  he  formally  puts  it,  points 
to  our  actions  rather  than  our  desires  and  affections,  and  so  far 
it  is  defective.  Still,  any  young  man  who  shall  put  before  him 
the  cleansing  of  his  way  as  the  aim  which  he  must  specially 
strive  to  reach,  will  surely  make  a  very  much  worthier  life  for 
himself  than  they  do  who  start  in  the  race  careless  whether 
the  way  they  take  be  miry  or  clean. 

I. 

An  Anxious  Question. 

Wherewithal  shall  a  young  man  cleanse  his  way?" 

There  are  many  questions  about  the  future  with  which  it  is 
natural  for  young  people  to  occupy  themselves ;  and  it  is  to  be 
feared  that  the  most  of  them  ask  more  anxiously  "  How  shall  I 
make  my  way  ? "  than  "  How  shall  I  cleanse  my  way  ? "  It  is 
needful  carefully  to  ponder  the  questions  :  "  How  shall  I  get  on 
in  the  world — be  happy,  fortunate  ? "  and  the  like.  But  there  is 
another  and  more  important  question :  "  How  shall  I  cleanse  my 
way  ? "  For  purity  is  the  best  thing ;  and  to  be  good  is  a  wiser 
as  well  as  a  nobler  object  of  ambition  than  any  other. 

1.  The  question  of  the  Psalmist  broadly  stated  is  this.  Can  a 
man  live,  in  all  respects  and  in  all  his  paths,  a  pure  and  beautiful 
life  ?  and  can  all  his  ways  be  clean  ?  We  know  well  how  much 
the  question  involves;  we  know  also  what  the  answer  means; 
but  we  can  answer  without  hesitation — as  an  ideal,  Yes.  A 
man  can  go  into  the  world,  and  take  his  part  in  all  natural  and 


PSALM  cxix.  9 


417 


necessary  engagements,  and  yet  have,  all  through,  a  cleansed  way. 
He  may  go  into  business,  become  a  politician,  enjoy  pleasure,  and 
build  up  a  home,  without  inevitable  stain,  without  wading  to  his 
object  through  dishonour ;  and  is  not  this  just  what  we  want,  to 
make  all  life  what  it  ought  to  be  ?  If  the  way  of  business  were 
clean,  if  the  ways  of  pleasure  were  clean,  if  the  sanctities  of 
domestic  life  were  all  kept  unsullied,  what  a  world  it  would  be ! 
What  would  become  of  fraud,  and  over-reaching,  and  plotting,  and 
treachery,  and  strife,  and  the  sickening  suspicions  of  one  another 
that  now  half  choke  human  love  and  threaten  to  starve  or  poison 
the  charities  of  life  ?  We  all  know  what  would  become  of  these 
things.  They  would  die  away  as  naturally  as  the  mists  before 
the  advance  of  day.  And  why  should  it  not  be  ?  Why  should 
not  a  man  begin  life  with  the  deep  conviction  that  his  may  be  a 
cleansed  way  ? 

2.  But  when  the  Psalmist  speaks  of  cleansing  our  way,  he 
implies  that,  at  some  points  at  least,  our  way  has  led  us  through 
the  mire.  The  picture  in  his  mind  was  of  this  sort.  There  stood 
before  him  a  young  man  who  had  not  long  set  out  on  the  journey 
of  life  and  who  yet,  to  his  own  deep  surprise  and  disgust,  found 
many  stains  of  travel  already  upon  him.  He  had  not  meant  to  go 
wrong ;  as  yet,  perhaps,  he  has  not  gone  very  far  wrong.  And  yet, 
where  did  all  this  filth  come  from  ?  And  how  is  it  to  be  got  rid 
of  ?  And  if,  at  the  very  outset  of  the  journey,  he  has  wandered 
into  by-paths  which  have  left  these  ugly  stains  upon  him,  what  will 
he  be  like  when  he  reaches  the  end  of  his  journey  ?  How  can  he 
hope  to  keep  a  right  course,  and  to  present  himself,  without  spot, 
before  God  at  the  last  ?  In  short,  how  is  he  to  make  his  way 
clean,  and  to  keep  it  clean  ? 

3.  There  are  in  our  lives  no  isolated  acts,  but  only  ways.  The 
wrong  of  which  we  say,  "  Only  this  once,  and  it  shall  never  be 
repeated,"  provokes  its  own  repetition,  starts  us  in  its  own 
direction.  The  violation  of  truth  or  integrity,  with  the  expecta- 
tion and  purpose  of  retrieving  it  speedily,  involves  us  in  a 
labyrinth,  in  which  we  lose  our  way,  and  may  never  find  our  way 
back.  The  laws  of  sobriety  or  purity  once  transgressed,  we  have 
not  the  power  which  we  previously  thought  we  had  to  retrace  our 

PS.  xxv.-cxix. — 27 


4i8 


THE  CLEAN  PATH 


steps.  We  meant  an  act ;  we  have  found  a  way — a  precipitous 
way,  too,  on  which  we  gain  momentum  with  every  step.  A  way 
has  a  direction,  and  leads  some  whither.  A  way  is  continuous ; 
and,  if  we  are  in  it,  we  are  advancing  in  it.  A  way  differs  in  its 
direction  from  other  ways,  and  diverges  more  and  more  from  them 
the  farther  one  travels  upon  it.  There  is  hardly  any  error  so 
perilous  as  that  of  imagining  that  there  can  be  isolated  acts  or 
states  of  mind.  Every  present  has  its  closely  affiliated  future. 
Every  deed,  every  reverie,  every  thought,  is  a  cause.  We  are 
moving  on  in  character,  as  in  years.  We  are  not  to-day  what 
we  were  a  week  ago.  We  are  advancing  either  in  holiness  or 
in  unholiness. 

^  Nature  moves  physically  towards  perfection,  and  morally 
there  must  be  the  same  unseen  but  necessary  motion.  For  if  the 
Darwinian  theory  be  true,  the  law  of  natural  selection  applies  to 
all  the  moral  history  of  mankind,  as  well  as  to  the  physical. 
Evil  must  die  ultimately  as  the  weaker  element  in  the  struggle 
with  the  good.  The  slow  consent  of  the  world's  history  is  in 
the  direction  of  moral  goodness,  as  its  physical  development  is 
ever  toward  higher  forms.  This  progress,  of  course,  does  not 
necessarily  embrace  any  particular  form  of  life  or  especial  race. 
A  given  race  may  die,  or  may  remain  stagnant.  The  development 
goes  on  with  some  new  variety  or  form  of  life.  Such  a  "  current 
of  things  towards  righteousness,"  or  towards  physical  perfection,  is 
slow,  almost  imperceptible.  It  is  like  the  silent  motion  of  the 
stars  of  heaven  through  eternity  towards  one  centre  of  the 
universe.  But  if  once  the  theory  of  development  be  accepted  and 
this  fact  be  admitted,  what  higlier  evidence  can  be  demanded  of  a 
benevolent  and  perfect  Creator  than  a  current  of  all  things 
towards  the  best,  a  drift  towards  perfection,  a  silent,  august, 
secular  movement  of  all  beings  and  forms  of  life,  all  thought  and 
morals,  all  history  and  events  towards  the  completely  good  and 
perfect  ?  ^ 

^  Perhaps  the  present  generation  has  heard  more  than  enough 
about  progress.  Talk  of  that  kind  is  an  affectation  that  was 
always  unprofitable,  and  has  now  become  stale.  Keal  progress 
needs  no  trumpeting.  It  announces  itself  like  the  flowing  stream, 
which  brawls  only  among  the  barren  rocks,  and  is  most  felt  as  a 
beneficent  agency  that  is  penetrating  and  vitalizing  in  those  parts 
where  friction  and  noise  are  reduced  to  a  minimum.  True 
advancement  is  humble,  earnest,  practical.    It  is  single-mindedj 

*  The  Life  of  Charles  Loring  Brace,  302.  I 


PSALM  cxix.  9 


419 


simple-hearted  devotion,  ever  growing  in  intelligence,  to  those 
grand  objects  which  are  dear  to  Christ  and  the  angels,  and  the 
over-shadowing  grandeur  of  which  makes  obtruding  self-conscious- 
ness impossible.  The  Apostles  advanced  by  forsaking  the 
tradition  of  men  and  cleaving  unto  the  word  of  the  Lord,  that 
they  might  do  for  the  world  what  could  be  done  in  no  other  way. 
Luther  advanced  by  bringing  men  up  to  the  simple  record  of  the 
New  Testament,  that  they  might  find  a  firm  footing  as  they 
passed  into  eternity  and  faced  the  awful  facts  of  life  and  destiny. 
We  can  advance  in  the  present  day  only  as  we  come  nearer  to 
J esus  Christ,  and  bring  others  with  us.^ 

The  poet  sings — 

Our  lives  must  climb  from  hope  to  hope, 

And  realize  our  longing, 
but  it  is  not  often  that  the  record  of  a  man's  progress  towards 
a  pronounced  condition  of  spiritual  exaltation  is  one  of  uninter- 
rupted climbing.  There  are  usually  some  prominent  milestones 
that  mark  momentous  crises  in  the  journey,  frequently  some 
definite  boundary  to  which  one  can  point  and  say.  This  is  where 
such  a  one  first  dedicated  himself  to  the  service  of  God  and 
of  his  fellows.  But  with  Quintin  Hogg  one  can  trace  the  ever- 
mountmg  path  back  to  his  earliest  days  until  it  is  lost  in  the  pure 
mnocence  that  is  God's  birth-gift  to  every  little  child.  There  is 
no  apparent  genesis  of  conviction,  of  dedication.  From  a  child 
upward  he  seems  to  have  been  imbued  with  a  sense  of  service 
owed  to  a  Wonderful  Benefactor,  and  though  of  course  there  must 
have  been  times  of  struggle  and  of  darkness,  they  were  principally 
of  a  mental  rather  than  of  a  spiritual  character,  causing  no 
mterruption  of  his  self-appointed  labours  and  leaving  no  con- 
temporary external  indications  of  their  presence.^ 


IL 

A  Simple  Answee. 

**  By  taking  heed." 

1.  The  answer,  like  the  question  of  the  text,  is  not  perhaps  the 
supremely  best,  but  it  is  nevertheless  very  true,  and  needful  to  be 
borne  in  mind.  We  should  begin  by  asking,  "  Wherewithal  shall 
I  cleanse  my  heart  ? "  and  the  reply  to  that  is,  "  If  any  man  be  in 

*  James  Stark,  John  Murker  of  Banff,  54. 

*  E.  M.  Hogg,  Quintin  Hogg,  35. 


420 


THE  CLEAN  PATH 


Christ  he  is  a  new  creature  " — renewed  in  the  spirit  of  his  mind 
after  the  likeness  of  Christ.  But,  allowing  that,  for  the  practical 
uses  of  life,  nothing  better  could  be  said  to  one  than  this.  Take 
heed  to  your  ways,  and  direct  them  according  to  the  Word  of  God 
For  not  a  little  of  the  evil  of  this  world  arises  from  the  heed- 
lessness of  youth.  We  did  not  mean  to  do  wrong.  Very  few  do, 
at  least  in  the  beginning.  There  may  be  some  who  have  from  the 
first  perverse  and  evil  natures,  wholly  indisposed  to  go  the  right 
way.  But  on  the  whole  these  are  not  the  common  staple  of 
human  creatures.  Most  youths  are  not  wishful  to  do  wrong,  but 
would  rather,  if  it  did  not  cost  very  much  trouble,  do  right  in  the 
main.  But  they  do  not  think  as  strenuously  about  it  as  they 
should.  They  are  not  very  watchful  of  their  conduct,  or  careful 
to  guide  it  aright ;  and  so  they  fall  into  a  snare.  It  is  this  heed- 
lessness, this  inconsiderateness,  which  does  not  weigh  seriously  the 
step  we  are  going  to  take,  and  the  consequences  it  may  involve — 
this  is  the  beginning  of  many  a  downward  course.  "  Oh,"  we  say, 
"  I  did  not  think ;  I  did  not  mean  any  wrong,"  and  we  are  fain  to 
consider  that  a  sufficient  excuse.  But  it  is  not  a  sufficient  excuse. 
We  ought  to  think.  God  has  given  us  a  power  of  "seeing 
before  and  after"  that  we  may  direct  our  steps  aright;  and  it 
will  not  serve  our  purpose  that  we  did  not  use  that  power,  but 
blundered  into  the  mire  which  we  should  clearly  have  avoided. 
The  foremost  duty  of  a  man  is  to  think  what  he  is  about. 

^  The  best  made  road  wants  looking  after  if  it  is  to  be  kept  in 
repair.  What  would  become  of  a  railway  that  had  no  surfacemen 
and  platelayers  going  along  the  line  and  noticing  whether  any- 
thing was  amiss  ?  I  remember  once  seeing  a  bit  of  an  old  Koman 
road;  the  lava  rocks  were  there,  but  for  want  of  care,  here  a 
young  sapling  had  grown  up  between  two  of  them  and  had  driven 
them  apart,  there  were  many  split  by  the  frost ;  here  was  a  great 
ugly  gap  full  of  mud,  and  the  whole  thing  ended  in  a  jungle. 
How  shall  a  man  keep  his  road  in  repair  ?  "  By  taking  heed 
thereto."  Things  that  are  left  to  go  anyhow  in  this  world  have  a 
strange  knack  of  going  one  how.  You  do  not  need  anything  else 
than  negligence  to  ensure  that  things  will  come  to  grief.^ 

^  One  of  the  greatest  of  living  Englishmen  sums  up  the  whole 
teaching  of  Goethe,  the  wisest  German  of  the  nineteenth  century, 
in  the  brief  citation :  "  Gedenke,  zu  leben,"  which  means  literally, 

^  A.  Maclaren. 


PSALM  cxix.  9 


421 


"Think,  to  live."  Carlyle  translates,  "Think  of  living."  But 
you  will  all  get  hold  of  its  meaning  if  I  say  that  what  it  comes  to 
is  this :  If  you  would  live  rightly  and  well,  you  must  think — 
think  how  it  is  best  to  live."  So  that,  you  see,  two  of  the 
wisest  men  of  our  own  time  are  of  one  mind  with  the  Psalmist 
who  lived  between  two  and  three  thousand  years  before  them. 
He  says,  "  If  you  would  walk  in  pure  and  noble  ways  of  life,  think 
of  your  ways."  ^  • 

2.  If  we  examine  our  self-consciousness,  we  shall  find  that  it  is 
never  as  to  the  qualities  of  actions  that  we  feel  doubt  or  hesita- 
tion. The  questions  which  perplex  us,  and  which  it  is  unspeak- 
ably dangerous  for  a  young  person  to  begin  to  ask,  are  such  as 
these :  How  far  may  I  go  in  a  wrong  direction,  and  yet  be  sure  to 
go  no  farther?  Is  there  any  harm  in  a  slight  compromise  of 
principle?  Can  I  not  with  ultimate  safety  trespass  once,  or  a 
little  way,  on  forbidden  ground  ?  Can  I  not  try  the  first  pleasant, 
attractive  steps  on  a  way  which  I  am  determined  on  no  account  to 
pursue  farther  ?  May  I  not  go  as  far  in  the  wrong  as  others  are 
going,  without  reproach  and  without  fear  ?  Is  there  not  some 
redeeming  grace  in  companionship,  so  that  I  may  venture  with 
others  a  little  farther  than  I  would  be  willing  to  go  alone  ?  May 
not  my  conscience,  under  careful  home-training  and  choice  home- 
examples,  have  become  more  rigid  and  scrupulous  than  is  befitting 
or  manly  in  one  who  has  emerged  into  comparative  freedom  ? 
In  these  questions  are  the  beginnings  of  evil — the  first,  it  may  be, 
fatal  steps  in  miry  ways. 

^  If  you  once  allow  yourself  to  fall  into  a  habit  of  evil  of 
whatever  kind,  the  idea  that  you  are  helpless,  that  you  are  made 
so,  that  it  is  your  nature,  will  very  speedily  creep  in  and  try  to 
lay  hold  of  your  mind.  Whether  it  be  a  sin  of  passion  or  of 
temper,  which  comes  only  at  times,  leaving  you  free  to  live  a  right 
and  perhaps  even  a  religious  life  in  the  intervals,  and  returning 
with  a  sort  of  easy  victory  in  the  hour  of  temptation,  making  your 
falls  all  the  more  miserable  by  their  contrast  with  your  happier 
and  better  moments ;  or  some  of  those  palsies  of  the  soul  which 
seem  to  benumb  the  will — sloth  for  instance,  or  selfishness ;  or 
again,  a  petty  fault  which  mars  all  your  life  without  seeming  ever 
to  stain  it  deeply,  making  you  ashamed,  and  justly  ashamed, 
that  you  should  find  a  difficulty  in  overcoming  such  a  trifle ;  in 

1 S.  Cox,  The  Bird's  Nest,  136., 


422 


THE  CLEAN  PATH 


such  cases,  over  and  above  the  temptation  to  the  sin  i'^elf,  there 
Boon  comes  the  added  temptation  to  treat  it  as  hopeless,  to  give 
up  in  despair,  to  reconcile  yourself  to  your  enemy,  and  say  that 
you  are  made  so,  and  cannot  do  otherwise.  And  this  is  indeed  no 
trifling  addition.  The  one  chance  of  escape  from  habitual  sin  is 
never  to  intermit  the  struggle :  do  that,  and  you  are  quite  sure  to 
conquer;  some  better  opportunity  for  getting  power  over  the 
temptation  presents  itself ;  or  the  temptation  seems  to  go  away 
of  itself,  you  do  not  know  how;  or  it  returns  less  and  less 
frequently,  till  it  returns  no  more ;  its  going  may  be  in  one  way 
or  in  another ;  but  persevere  in  the  battle,  and  go  it  surely  will. 
Thus  ere  now  have  Christians  overcome  bodily  temptations,  to 
some  men  the  severest  trials  of  all ;  thus  have  Christians  tamed 
down  unruly  temper ;  thus  have  they  conquered  pride  and 
vanity ;  thus  have  they  taught  themselves  to  be  true.^ 

3.  But  it  is  not  in  man  to  direct  his  steps  aright.  Therefore 
God  has  bestowed  on  us  what  should  be  "  a  lamp  unto  our  feet, 
and  a  light  unto  our  path."  It  is  something  to  be  heedful  and  to 
walk  warily,  for  we  are  beset  on  all  hands  by  snares  and  tempta- 
tions. But  that  is  not  enough.  For  besides  these  dangers  that 
encompass  us  without,  we  have  other  perils  to  face  in  the  shape 
of  false  ideals,  mistaken  views  of  what  a  man  should  be  and  do. 
Therefore  the  Psalmist  reminds  us  that  we  can  cleanse  our  ways 
only  by  taking  heed  to  them  according  to  God's  Word.  He 
meant,  of  course,  the  Law  of  the  Lord  as  it  had  been  made  known 
to  Israel  of  old.  That  was  to  be  their  practical  guide  in  the 
path  of  duty  in  his  day.  It  was  not  merely  a  doctrine  they  were 
to  believe,  but  a  commandment  they  must  obey.  And  a  noble 
law  it  was,  of  brave  and  manly  and  self-denying  virtue,  leading 
them  up  the  steep  heights  of  arduous  duty  to  the  fellowship  of 
Israel's  God.  Yet,  good  and  precious  though  it  was,  quickening 
the  soul  to  a  higher  life  than  the  rest  of  the  world  dreamt  of,  we 
have  now  a  surer  word  and  a  fairer  example  to  direct  us,  a  more 
potent  inspiration  also  urging  us  to  higher  and  holier  attainments. 
Think  of  the  Perfect  Man,  the  model  of  holy  beauty,  who  is  in 
all  things  our  example,  who  teaches  how  to  be  rich  in  poverty,  how 
to  be  wise  though  unlearned,  how  to  bear  wrong  meekly,  how  to  be 
true  and  faithful  and  brave  with  all  the  world  against  Him,  and 
how  to  forget  Himself  in  the  love  He  bore  to  all. 

*  Archbishop  Temple, 


PSALM  cxix.  9 


423 


In  St.  Peter  the  love  of  God  is  shown  in  Christian  example. 
A  plain  and  simple  mind,  fixed  on  plain  duties,  finding  in  the 
great  law  of  right  a  supreme  satisfaction,  St.  Peter  seems  to  think 
of  our  Lord  chiefly  as  showing  us  what  we  ought  to  be  and  do, 
and  sent  by  the  infinite  love  of  God  for  that  purpose.  Do 
Christians  find  their  duty  hard  ?  "  Even  hereunto  were  ye  called  : 
because  Christ  also  suffered  for  us,  leaving  us  an  example,  that  ye 
should  follow  his  steps :  who  did  no  sin,  neither  was  guile  found 
in  his  mouth :  who,  when  he  was  reviled,  reviled  not  again ;  when 
he  suffered,  he  threatened  not;  but  committed  himself  to  him 
that  judgeth  righteously :  who  his  own  self  bare  our  sins  in  his 
own  body  on  the  tree,  that  we,  being  dead  to  sins,  should  live 
unto  righteousness :  by  whose  stripes  ye  were  healed."  Or,  again, 
are  Christians  persecuted  ?  They  are  reminded  that  "  Christ  also 
hath  once  suffered  for  sins,  the  just  for  the  unjust."  And  so 
throughout  his  writings  St.  Peter  ever  seems  to  think  of  God's 
love  as  upholding  a  man  in  doing  what  it  is  right  to  do,  in  bearing 
what  it  is  right  to  bear,  and  of  Christ's  life  as  the  assurance  of  that 
love.^ 

4.  In  Christ,  who  is  the  Incarnate  Word,  we  have  an  all- 
sufficient  Guide  on  our  way  through  life.  A  guide  of  conduct 
must  be  plain — and  whatever  doubts  and  difficulties  there  may 
be  about  the  doctrines  of  Christianity  there  is  none  about  its 
morality.  A  guide  of  conduct  must  be  decisive — and  there  is  no 
faltering  in  the  utterance  of  the  Book  as  to  right  and  wrong.  A 
guide  of  conduct  must  be  capable  of  application  to  the  wide 
diversities  of  character,  age,  circumstance — and  the  morality  of 
the  New  Testament  especially,  and  of  the  Old  in  a  measure, 
secures  that,  because  it  does  not  trouble  itself  about  minute  details, 
but  deals  with  large  principles.  A  guide  for  morals  must  be  far 
in  advance  of  the  followers,  and  it  has  taken  generations  and 
centuries  to  work  into  men's  consciences,  and  to  work  out  in 
men's  practice,  a  'portion  of  the  morality  of  that  Book.  If  the 
world  kept  the  commandments  of  the  New  Testament,  the  world 
would  be  in  the  millennium;  and  all  the  sin  and  crime,  and 
ninety-nine-hundredths  of  all  the  sorrow,  of  earth  would  have 
vanished  like  an  ugly  dream. 

■[1  I  never  saw  a  useful  Christian  who  was  not  a  student  of 
the  Bible.    If  a  man  neglect  his  Bible,  he  may  pray  and  ask  God 

^  Archbishop  Temple. 


424 


THE  CLEAN  PATH 


to  use  him  in  His  work,  but  God  cannot  make  use  of  him,  for 
there  is  not  much  for  the  Holy  Ghost  to  work  upon.  We 
cannot  overcome  Satan  with  our  feelings.  The  reason  why  some 
people  have  such  bitter  experience  is  that  they  try  to  overcome 
the  devil  by  their  feelings  and  experiences.  Christ  overcame 
Satan  by  the  Word} 

5.  The  fatal  defect  of  all  attempts  at  keeping  our  heart  by  our 
own  watchfulness  is  that  keeper  and  kept  are  one  and  the  same, 
and  so  there  may  be  mutiny  in  the  garrison,  and  the  very  forces 
that  ought  to  subdue  the  rebellion  may  have  gone  over  to  the 
rebels.  We  want  a  power  outside  of  us  to  steady  us.  We 
want  another  motive  to  be  brought  to  bear  upon  our  conduct, 
and  upon  our  convictions  and  our  will,  mightier  than  any  that 
now  influence  them ;  and  we  get  that  if  we  will  yield  ourselves  to 
the  love  that  has  come  down  from  heaven  to  save  us,  and  says  to 
us,  "  If  ye  love  me,  keep  my  commandments."  We  want,  for  keeping 
ourselves  and  cleansing  our  way,  reinforcements  to  our  own  inward 
vigour,  and  we  shall  get  these  if  we  will  trust  to  Jesus  Christ, 
who  will  breathe  into  us  the  spirit  of  His  own  life,  which  will 
make  us  "  free  from  the  law  of  sin  and  death."  We  want,  if  our 
path  is  to  be  cleansed,  forgiveness  for  a  past  path,  which  is  in 
some  measure  stained  and  foul,  as  well  as  strength  for  the  future, 
to  deliver  us  from  the  dreadful  influence  of  the  habit  of  evil. 
And  we  get  all  these  in  the  blood  of  Jesus  Christ  which  cleanses 
from  all  sin. 

^  How  are  we  to  be  made  holy  ?  God  has  made  full  provision 
for  it.  There  is  wonderful  provision  laid  down  in  the  Word  for 
our  sanctiflcation.  First  of  all  there  is  the  blood  of  Jesus  Christ 
which  clean seth  from  all  sin.  There  is  power  in  it  to  cleanse 
even  the  young  man's  heart.  Secondly,  there  is  the  washing  with 
the  Word.  You  remember  the  Lord  said  to  His  disciples,  "  Now, 
ye  are  clean  through  the  word  which  I  have  spoken  unto  you." 
Thirdly,  there  is  the  keeping  power  of  Christ  Himself.  "  I  know 
whom  I  have  believed,  and  am  persuaded  that  he  is  able  to  keep 
that  which  I  have  committed  unto  him  against  that  day."  The 
power  of  Christ  to  keep  is  another  part  of  the  provision  that  God 
has  made  to  keep  us  holy.  Then  there  is  the  Holy  Spirit  of  God, 
whose  special  otlice  on  earth  is  to  do  tliis  work  of  sanctiticatioii 
through  Christ.    The  blood  of  Jesus  Christ;  the  Word  of  the 

^  D.  L.  Moody. 


PSALM  cxix.  9 


425 


living  God ;  the  keeping  power  of  Christ ;  the  sanctifying  power 
of  the  Holy  Ghost.    What  a  provision  is  this !  ^ 

Four  letters  that  a  child  may  trace ! 

Yet  men  who  read  may  feel  a  thrill 
From  powers  that  know  not  time  nor  space, 

Vibrations  of  the  eternal  will — 
With  body  and  mind  and  soul  respond 
To  "Love"  and  all  that  lies  beyond. 

On  truth's  wide  sea,  thought's  tiny  skiff 
Goes  dancing  far  beyond  our  speech, 

Yet  thought  is  but  a  hieroglyph 

Of  boundless  worlds  it  cannot  reach : 

We  label  our  poor  idols  "God," 

And  map  with  logic  heavens  untrod. 

Music  and  beauty,  life  and  art — 

Eegalia  of  the  Presence  hid — 
Command  our  worship,  move  our  heart, 

Write  "  Love  "  on  every  coffin-lid  : 
But  infinite — beyond,  above — 
The  hope  within  that  one  word  "  Love."  ^ 


^  J.  Elder  Gumming. 


^  Annie  Matlieson,  Mayiime  Songs,  59. 


The  Wondrous  Law. 


4*7 


Literature. 


Flint  (R),  Sermons  and  Addresses^  133. 

Harper  (F.),  Nine  SermonSy  31. 

Ker  (J.),  Sermons,  i.  29. 

Matheson  (Q.),  Messages  of  Hope,  241. 

Salmond  (C.  A.),  For  Days  of  Youth,  346. 

Voysey  (C),  Sermons,  vi.  (1883),  No.  44 ;  xix.  (1896),  No.  16 ;  xxvi. 

(1903),  No.  22. 
Whincup  (D.  W.),  The  Training  of  Life,  21. 
British  Weekly  Pulpit,  iii.  401  (W.  Sanday). 
Treasury  (New  York),  xx.  722. 


438 


The  Wondrous  Law. 


Open  thou  mine  eyes,  that  I  may  behold 
Wondrous  things  out  of  thy  law. — Ps.  cxix.  i8. 

This  is  a  very  uncommon  idea — that  wonder  should  be  the  result 
of  intellectual  development  or  the  "  opening  of  the  eyes."  The 
prevailing  notion  is  the  reverse — that  wonder  belongs  to  the 
primitive  age  alike  of  the  individual  and  of  the  race.  We  say 
colloquially,  "  I  opened  my  eyes  in  astonishment  " ;  the  Psalmist's 
expression  is  the  converse,  "  I  became  astonished  by  opening  my 
eyes."  What  the  Psalmist  says  is  that  the  marvels  of  life  escape 
us  by  reason  of  our  ignorance.  His  prayer  is  just  the  contrary  of 
the  common  prayer.  The  common  prayer  is,  "  Make  me  a  simple 
child  again  that  I  may  feel  the  mystery  of  all  things  and  bow 
with  reverence  before  them."  But  the  Psalmist  says, "  Emancipate 
me  from  the  ignorance  of  childhood,  for  it  is  only  when  I  shall 
see  with  the  eyes  of  a  man  that  I  shall  behold  the  mystery,  the 
marvel,  the  unfathomable  depth,  of  that  ocean  on  whose  bosom 
I  live  and  move  and  have  my  being." 

^  Do  we  find  that  the  sense  of  wonder  belongs  to  children  ? 
Not  so.  The  sense  of  mystery  is  precisely  what  a  child  does  not 
feel.  He  asks  many  questions;  but  he  will  accept  the  crudest 
answers  as  quite  adequate  explanations.  He  has  not  a  conscious- 
ness of  limitation.  He  has  a  feeling  of  power  beyond  his  strength ; 
he  will  put  out  his  hand  to  catch  the  moon.  He  does  not  at  an 
early  date  inquire  where  he  came  from.  He  does  not  ask  who 
made  a  watch  or  who  made  the  sun.  To  him  the  watch  and  the 
sun  are  both  alive — moving  by  their  own  strength,  upheld  by 
their  own  power.  His  eyes  are  not  opened,  and  therefore  his 
wonder  is  not  awake.  To  wake  his  wonder  you  must  unbar  the 
door  of  his  mind.  The  mystery  comes  with  his  experience — not 
with  the  want  of  it.  I  do  not  read  that  man  marvelled  in  Eden; 
I  do  that  they  marvelled  in  Galilee.  Eden  was  as  wonderful  as 
Galilee ;  but  the  eyes  were  not  opened.    Knowledge  is  the  parent 

of  mystery.    Experience  is  the  forerunner  of  reverence.  Only 

429 


430  THE  WONDROUS  LAW 


they  who  have  let  down  the  pitcher  can  utter  the  cry,  "  The  well 
is  deep."  ^ 

If  Mr.  Morley,  in  his  Life  of  Gladstone,  speaking  of  his  entrance 
into  college  life  at  Oxford,  says :  "  It  was  from  Gladstone's  intro- 
duction into  this  enchanted  and  inspiring  world  that  we  recognize 
the  beginning  of  the  wonderful  course  which  was  to  show  how 
great  a  thing  the  life  of  a  man  may  be  made."  So  with  Christian. 
Here,  in  the  Interpreter's  House,  his  spiritual  experiences  really 
begin.  He  is  no  longer  in  the  outer  circle  of  the  world's  empty 
life ;  he  has  come  within  the  circle  of  God's  direct  purposes  and 
protecting  power.  Dangers  he  will  have  to  meet,  trials  of  faith 
and  courage ;  the  Hill  of  Difficulty,  the  Valley  of  Humiliation,  the 
Castle  of  Giant  Despair,  the  struggle  with  Apollyon — all  this  is 
before  him.  But  he  is  on  the  pilgrim-road  to  Zion.  There  is  the 
sweet  companionship;  there  are  the  wonders  by  the  way — the 
Interpreter's  House,  the  Cross  where  the  burden  is  removed,  the 
Palace  Beautiful,  the  sight  of  the  Delectable  Mountains,  the  Eiver 
of  the  Water  of  Life.  So  whatever  might  be  the  difficulties, 
Christian  was  on  enchanted  ground.  He  was  near  to  God.  He 
was  on  the  path  whose  end  was  heaven.  The  wicket  gate  admits 
him  to  the  rich  field  of  Christian  experience :  the  only  experience 
that  has  any  lasting  value.^ 

I. 

1.  The  sense  of  wonder  is  one  of  our  most  useful  emotions. 
The  mind  cannot  remain  long  in  a  state  of  monotony  without 
something  like  pain,  or  if  it  does,  it  is  a  sign  of  the  low  level  to 
which  it  has  sunk.  It  has  a  craving  after  what  is  fresh,  and  God 
has  provided  for  this  in  the  form  of  the  world.  He  has  made  the 
works  of  nature  pass  before  us  with  a  perpetually  diversified  face. 
He  has  created  summer  and  winter,  and  so  ordered  the  sun  that  it 
has  probably  never  set  with  the  same  look  since  man  first  saw  it. 
Those  works  of  nature  are  constantly  turning  up  new  subjects  of 
thought  and  study,  and  will  do  so,  during  the  world's  existence; 
while,  at  the  same  time,  the  world  itself  is  weaving  an  ever- 
shifting  and  many-coloured  web  of  history.  In  all  this  there  is 
a  stimulus  to  man  to  lead  him  to  look  and  think. 

^  Not  by  "  mathesis,"  not  by  deduction,  or  construction,  not  by 
measuring,  or  searching,  canst  thou  find  out  God,  but  only  by  the 

*  G.  Matheson,  Messages  of  H&pe,  242. 

»  D.  W.  Whincup,  The  Training  of  Life,  21. 


PSALM  cxix.  1 8 


431 


faithful  cry  from  the  roadside  of  the  world  as  He  passes — "  Open 
thou  mine  eyes,  that  I  may  behold  wondrous  things  out  of  thy 
law."  In  that  prayer  you  have  literally  expressed  to  you,  not  in 
any  wise  as  we  too  carelessly  assume  metaphorically,  the  two 
functions  of  the  exercised  senses,  of  which  you  have  so  often,  I 
fear  incredulously,  heard  me  affirm  the  necessary  connexion — the 
discerning  of  what  is  beautiful  and  of  what  is  right.  "  Wondrous 
things  out  of  thy  law."  Wondrous,  not  as  to  the  uneducated 
senses  they  are  in  terror,  but  wondrous  to  the  educated  senses  in 
gentleness  and  delight ;  so  that  while  to  the  modern  demonstrator 
of  the  laws  of  Nature  they  become  mysterious  as  dreadful  in  their 
tyranny,  to  the  ancient  perceiver  of  the  laws  of  Heaven  they  be- 
came lovely  no  less  than  wondrous:  in  the  tenderness  and  the 
voice  of  the  Borgo  Allegri,  at  the  feet  of  the  Mother  of  Christ, 
was  joy  no  less  of  allegiance  than  wonder — "  Oh,  how  love  I  thy 
law/'i 

2.  Wonder  rises  into  admiration  as  we  contemplate  things 
that  are  grand  and  beautiful.  There  is  a  chord  in  the  human 
heart  to  which  the  beautiful  and  sublime  respond,  whether  these 
appear  in  the  material  or  in  the  spiritual  world.  If  we  could  only 
take  men  away  for  a  little  out  of  the  dull,  dead  round,  and  from 
the  corroding  and  often  debasing  things  that  draw  them  down  in 
their  common  life,  there  are  objects  such  as  these  appealing  to 
them  daily  and  hourly,  and  asking  them  if  they  have  not  a  soul. 
Rich  sunsets  and  moonlit  skies  are  there,  only  requiring  eyes  to 
see  them,  and  acts  of  self-devotion  and  heroism  are  being  per- 
formed, and  lives  of  patient  suffering  led,  under  our  sight,  which 
are  as  capable  of  thrilling  us  as  anything  recorded  in  history. 

^  At  a  later  time  the  Mar^chale  delivered  addresses  in  other 
cities  of  France — such  as  Nimes,  Marseilles,  Havre,  Eouen,  Lyons 
— and  she  was  everywhere  astonished  to  find  that  the  French, 
who  seem  the  most  thoughtless,  are  yet  among  the  most  thought- 
ful people  in  the  world.  The  result  of  such  Conferences  as  these 
cannot  be  tabulated.  For  one  thing,  they  made  the  Mar^chale 
more  than  ever  a  mother-confessor  and  spiritual  director.  The 
thoughts  of  many  hearts  were  revealed  to  her  at  private  inter- 
views of  which  no  record  was  kept,  and  in  letters,  one  of  which 
may  be  given : — 

"  Your  marvellous  faith,  your  simple  and  powerful  eloquence 
so  deeply  moved  me  that  I  cannot  but  thank  you.  I  thank  you 
*  UuskiHj  Schools  of  Art  in  Florence,  §  90  {Works,  xxiii.  250). 


THE  WONDROUS  LAW 


as  an  artist,  as  a  sincere  admirer  of  beautiful  work,  of  great  char- 
acters; I  thank  you  as  a  man  blas(^,  sceptical,  benumbed  and 
deadened.  As  a  child  I  adored  Jesus,  and  now,  after  having 
thought  much  and  suffered  infinite  pains  which  you  cannot 
understand,  I  have  said  adieu  to  faith  and  also  adieu  to  hope! 
I  have  become  one  of  those  you  call  sceptics.  Ah !  do  not  say 
'  terrible '  sceptic,  but  unfortunate,  pitiable,  unhappy  sceptic. 
You  are,  Madame,  a  great,  beautiful,  generous  heart,  and  if  ever 
earnest  good  wishes  have  been  worth  anything,  I  have  cherished 
them  for  you,  your  work,  and  those  who  fight  by  your  side.  You 
will  believe  me,  an  unbeliever,  who  envies  you,  admires  you,  and 
ideally  loves  you."  ^ 

3.  Wonder  and  admiration  deepen  into  awe  as  we  realize  tho 
mystery  of  life.  A  reflective  mind  can  take  but  a  very  few  steps 
in  thinking  till  it  comes  upon  this.  It  is  not  so  much  that  there 
are  things  unknown  around  us  as  that  there  are  things  unknoivahle, 
that  there  is  an  infinite  and  a  mystery  in  the  universe  which  we  ^ 
cannot  now  penetrate,  and  which  may  for  ever  stretch  beyond  us.  ' 
The  tokens  of  man's  highest  nature  lie  not  in  his  being  able  to  - 
comprehend  but  in  his  ability  to  feel  that  there  are  things  which 
he  cannot  comprehend,  and  which  he  yet  feels  to  be  true  and 
real,  before  which  he  is  compelled  to  fall  down  in  reverent  awe. 
It  is  here,  above  all,  that  man  comes  into  contact  with  religion, 
with  a  God,  with  an  eternity ;  and  he  in  whom  there  is  little 
sense  of  wonder,  or  in  whom  it  has  been  blunted  and  degraded, 
will  have  a  proportionately  feeble  impression  of  these  grand 
subjects  which  the  soul  can  feel  to  be  real  but  can  never  fully 
grasp. 

^  I  can  call  my  Father  a  brave  man  (ein  Tapferer).  Man's 
face  he  did  not  fear;  God  he  always  feared:  his  Keverence,  I 
think,  was  considerably  mixed  with  Fear.  Yet  not  slavish  Fear ; 
rather  Awe,  as  of  unutterable  Depths  of  Silence,  through  which 
flickered  a  trembling  Hope.  How  he  used  to  speak  of  Death 
(especially  in  late  years)  or  ratlicr  to  bo  silent,  and  look  of  it ! 
There  was  no  feeling  in  him  here  that  he  cared  to  hide :  he 
trembled  at  the  really  terrible ;  the  mock-terrible  he  cared  nought 
for. — That  last  act  of  his  Life ;  when  in  the  last  agony,  with  the 
thick  ghastly  vapours  of  Death  rising  round  him  to  choke  him, 
he  burst  through  and  called  with  a  man's  voice  on  the  great  God 
to  have  mercy  on  him :  that  was  like  the  epitome  and  concluding 

1  James  Strahan,  The  Mar6chale  (1913),  123. 


PSALM  cxix.  i8 


433 


summary  of  his  whole  Life.  God  gave  him  strength  to  wrestle 
with  the  King  of  Terrors,  as  it  were  even  then  to  prevail.  All  his 
strength  came  from  God,  and  ever  sought  new  nourishment  there. 
God  be  thanked  for  it.^ 

IL 

1.  There  is  nothing  so  wonderful  as  God's  law;  indeed,  it 
may  justly  be  said  to  include  in  itself  all  that  is  most  wonderful — 
all  that  truly  merits  our  admiration — all  that  will  really  reward 
our  curiosity.  For  what  is  it?  The  Psalmist  here  was  not 
thinking  merely  of  the  law  given  to  Moses  or  of  the  words  written 
in  any  book,  however  sacred.  He  was  not  thinking  of  spoken 
words  or  written  characters,  but  of  eternal  realities.  He  was  an 
earnest  man,  and  his  mind  sought  to  be  in  contact  with  truth 
itself ;  he  was  a  pious  man,  and  his  heart  longed  for  nothing  less 
or  lower  than  communion  with  the  living  God.  He  felt  himself 
in  the  Divine  presence,  and  he  felt  that  the  Divine  law  was 
within  and  around  him.  The  Bible  tells  us  much  about  the  law 
of  God,  but  it  is  only  by  a  figure  of  speech  that  we  call  it  the  law 
of  God  or  even  that  it  contains  the  law  of  God.  In  the  Bible  and 
other  books  we  have  the  statements  of  God's  laws,  but  these  laws 
themselves  are  far  too  real  to  be  in  any  book. 

2.  It  is  the  law  of  God  that  keeps  the  stars  in  their  courses, 
regulates  the  movements  of  the  seas  and  the  revolutions  of  the 
aarth,  develops  the  plant  and  organizes  the  animal,  works  in  our 
instincts  and  guides  our  reason,  marks  out  the  path  of  humanity 
ind  determines  the  rise  and  fall,  the  weal  and  woe,  of  nations,  and 
neasures  out  to  virtue  and  vice  their  due  rewards  in  time  and 
eternity.  It  is  not  truly  separable  from  God  Himself,  but  is  the 
;vhole  of  the  modes  in  which  He  manifests  His  power,  and  wisdom, 
ind  goodness  in  the  universe, — the  whole  of  the  ways  in  which 
3e  operates  through  matter  and  spirit,  in  creation,  providence,  and 
'edemption,  as  Father  and  King  and  J udge.  Hence  it  is  that  we 
lay  it  is  not  only  most  wonderful  but  includes  in  itself  all  that  is 
vonderful.  The  wonders  of  physical  nature,  of  the  human  soul 
.nd  human  history,  and  of  redeeming  love  and  grace,  are  all 
venders  of  that  law  of  God  which  the  Psalmist  longed  and  prayed 

^  Carlyle,  Reminiscences,  i.  10. 
PS.  xxv.-cxix. — 28 


THE  WONDROUS  LAW 


to  behold— that  law  which  ruleth  alike  in  what  is  least  and 
m  what  is  greatest,  to  which  all  things  in  heaven  and  earth  do 
homage,  the  seat  of  which  is  the  bosom  of  the  Eternal,  the  voice 
of  which  is  the  harmony  of  the  universe. 

H  I  read  in  the  Bible  that  God  has  "  set  his  glory  in  the 
heavens,"  but  in  merely  reading  this  I  do  not  see  that  glory ;  it 
is  only  to  be  seen  by  "  considering  the  heavens,  which  are  the  work 
of  God's  fingers ;  the  moon  and  the  stars,  which  he  has  ordained." 
This  terrible  law—"  the  wages  of  sin  is  death  "—has  been  published 
in  the  Bible,  but  it  does  not  exist  and  work  in  the  Bible ;  it  exists 
and  works  in  the  lives  of  sinful  beings  like  you  and  me,  and  if 
we  do  not  see  it  in  ourselves  we  shall  never  see  it  at  all,  although 
we  read  a  thousand  times  the  words  which  announce  it.  So  with 
its  gracious  counterpart—"  the  gift  of  God  is  eternal  life  through 
Jesus  Christ."  These  blessed  words  point  us  to  the  most  consolmg 
law  in  all  the  universe,  but  they  point  us  away  from  themselves; 
and  only  by  our  souls  coming  into  communion  with  a  hvmg  God 
through  a  living  Saviour  can  they  behold  the  wonders  of  mercy 
and  truth  which  are  in  that  law.^ 

^  Really,  so  far  as  spiritual  vision  is  concerned,  the  angels 
must  look  upon  this  earth  as  a  big  blind  asylum.  We  see  close 
to  us,  but  not  afar  off;  we  see  the  surface,  and  miss  the  depths; 
we  see  not  as  wide  awake,  but  as  those  who  rub  their  eyes  hardly 
knowincr  whether  they  wake  or  sleep.  Have  I  seen  the  "  wondrous 
things  "''out  of  God's  law— the  things  which  accompany  salva- 
tion Many  feel  the  intellectual  interest  of  God's  Word,  enjoy 
its  eloquence,  extol  its  moral  worth,  or  they  appreciate  its  pru- 
dential wisdom,  like  Napoleon,  who  put  it  in  the  political  section  of 
his  library ;  but  they  do  not  grasp  its  spiritual,  saving  message. 
They  gather  shining  pebbles  and  painted  shells,  and  overlook  the 
pearl  of  great  price.  Oh  !  to  see  the  wondrous  depths  of  redeem- 
mg  love !  Whilst  I  study  systems  of  theology  and  search  the  com- 
mentaries  of  exegetes  do  I  sufficiently  remember  the  promised 
Revealer  and  wait  His  illumination  ?  "  Ye  have  an  unction  from 
the  Holy  One,  and  know  all  things."* 


III. 

1.  The  most  wonderful  of  all  laws  are  God's  moral  and  spiritua: 
laws.  They  are  the  laws  of  God  in  a  far  higher  sense  than  otliei 
laws.    The  laws  of  the  physical  world  might  have  been  qmt< 

I  Robert  Flint.  "  W.  L.  Watkinson. 


I 


PSALM  cxix.  i8 


435 


different  from  what  they  are.  God  made  them  to  be  what  they  are 
by  making  the  physical  world  itself  what  it  is.  If  He  had  made  quite 
a  different  material  world  with  quite  other  laws,  He  would  have 
been  none  the  less  God,  the  true  object  of  our  worship.  But  He 
did  not  make  the  fundamental  laws  of  moral  life  to  be  what  they 
are  by  any  mere  forthputting  of  His  will.  They  are  eternal  and 
unchangeable.  That  God  should  alter  them  would  be  for  Him 
to  cease  to  be  wise  and  righteous  and  holy  and  loving.  It  would 
be  for  Him  to  cease  to  be  God.  The  wonders  of  these  laws  are 
thus  the  wonders  of  the  Divine  nature,  and  far  greater,  therefore, 
than  any  wonders  of  created  nature.  At  the  same  time,  these 
laws  are  the  laws  of  our  natures,  of  our  spirits,  of  what  is  much 
higher  and  much  more  wonderful  than  anything  else  to  be  beheld  in 
nature.  "  On  earth,"  it  has  been  said,  "  there  is  nothing  great  but 
man,  and  in  man  there  is  nothing  great  but  mind."  And  certainly 
a  soul  is  a  far  more  wonderful  thing  than  even  a  star,  a  spiritual 
being  than  a  material  world,  and  its  laws  are  far  more  wonderful.  It 
is  spiritual  law  that  determines  men's  relations  to  their  God  and  to 
one  another,  and  it  is  on  obedience  or  disobedience  to  it  that  the 
weal  or  woe  of  individuals  or  societies  chiefly  depends,  so  that  all 
jthe  marvels  and  mysteries  of  human  nature  and  destiny  gather 
round  it. 

^  I  am  not  quite  sure  that  the  sole,  or  even  chief,  end  of 
punishment  is  the  reformation  of  the  offender.  I  think  a  great 
deal  of  law.  Law  rules  Deity;  and  its  awful  majesty  is  above 
individual  happiness.  That  is  what  Kant  calls  "  the  categorical 
imperative,"  that  is,  a  sense  of  duty  which  commands  categorically 
or  absolutely — not  saying  "  it  is  better,"  but "  thou  shalt."  Why  ? 
Because  "  thou  shalt,"  that  is  all.  It  is  not  best  to  do  right — 
thou  must  do  right ;  and  the  conscience  that  feels  that,  and  in  that 
way,  is  the  nearest  to  Divine  humanity.  Not  that  law  was  made, 
like  the  Sabbath,  for  man,  but  man  was  made  for  it.  He  is  beneath 
it,  a  grain  of  dust  before  it ;  it  moves  on,  and  if  he  will  not  move 
before  it,  it  crushes  him ;  that  is  all,  and  that  is  punishment.  I 
fancy  that  grand  notion  of  law  is  what  we  have  lost,  what  we 
require  to  get,  before  we  are  in  a  position  to  discuss  the  question 
pf  punishment  at  all,  or  to  understand  what  it  is.'^ 

2.  To  behold  fully  how  wonderful  the  law  is — how  sacred  God 
{regards  it  to  be — how  terrible  disobedience  to  it  is — it  is  to  the 

^  Life  and  Letters  of  the  Rev.  F.  W.  JRobertson,  236. 


436  THE  WONDROUS  LAW 


cross  we  must  look ;  to  the  cross,  towering  high  above  all  other 
subjects,  in  the  midst  of  the  ages,  in  the  presence  of  the  nations, 
to  show  sin  in  all  its  hideousness  and  righteousness  in  all  its  per- 
fections. If  we  can  see  no  wonders  in  the  law  which  Christ  died- 
to  satisfy  and  glorify,  if  we  do  not  see  it  to  be  unspeakably  more 
wonderful  than  all  the  other  laws,  assuredly  our  blindness  is  great 
indeed,  and  we  cannot  too  earnestly  cry  to  a  merciful  God,  "  Opeiij 
Thou  mine  eyes." 

In  a  letter  to  her  father  Miss  Nightingale  says : 
"  What  I  dislike  in  Renan  is  not  that  it  is  fine  writing,  but 
that  it  is  all  fine  writing.  His  Christ  is  the  hero  of  a  novel ;  he 
himself,  a  successful  novel-writer.  I  am  revolted  by  such  expres- 
sions as  charmant,  delicieux,  religion  du  pur  sentiment,  in  such  a 
subject.  ...  As  for  the  'religion  of  sentiment,'  I  really  don't 
know  what  he  means.  It  is  an  expression  of  Balzac's.  If  hf 
means  the  *  religion  of  love,'  I  agree  and  do  not  agree.  We  uiust 
love  something  loveable.  And  a  religion  of  love  must  certainl) 
include  the  explaining  of  God's  character  to  be  something  loveabl( 

 of  God's  *  providence,'  which  is  the  self-same  thing  as  God'; 

Laws,  as  something  loving  and  loveable.  On  the  other  hand  I  g( 
along  with  Christ,  not  with  Eenan's  Christ,  far  more  than  mos 
Christians  do.  I  do  not  think  that  '  Christ  on  the  Cross '  is  thi 
highest  expression  hitherto  of  God— not  in  the  vulgar  meaning  o 
the  Atonement— but  God  does  hang  on  the  Cross  every  day  ii 
every  one  of  us ;  the  whole  meaning  of  God's  *  providence,'  it 
His  laws,  is  the  Cross.  When  Christ  preaches  the  Crosi 
when  all  mystical  theology  preaches  the  Cross,  I  go  along  wit:, 
them  entirely.  It  is  the  self-same  thing  as  what  I  mean  whe:j 
I  say  that  God  educates  the  world  by  His  laws,  i.e.  by  si 

 that  man  must  create  mankind — that  all  this  evil,  i.e.  th 

Cross,  is  the  proof  of  God's  goodness,  is  the  only  way  by  whic 
God  could  work  out  man's  salvation  without  a  contradiction.  Yo 
say,  but  there  is  too  much  evil.  I  say,  there  is  just  enough  (n( 
a  millionth  part  of  a  grain  more  than  is  necessary)  to  teach  ma 
by  his  own  mistakes,— by  his  sins,  if  you  will— to  show  man  tl 
way  to  perfection  in  eternity — to  perfection  which  is  the  oul 
happiness."  ^ 


Man's  eyes  are  veiled,  so  that  he  sees  but  a  little  way  in  I 
God's  law.    Our  intellectual  perception  of  law  is  one  thing  ai 
»  Sir  Edward  Cook,  The  Life  of  Florence  Nightingale,  i,  486, 


1 


PSALM  cxix.  i8 


437 


our  spiritual  perception  of  God  in  law  is  a  very  different  thing. 
To  see  law  itself  we  need  only  a  clear  and  disciplined  under- 
standing. To  see  God  in  law  we  need  spiritual  discernment. 
The  eye  sees  only  what  it  brings  with  it  the  power  of  seeing. 
And  neither  mere  bodily  vision  nor  mere  intellectual  vision  will 
enable  us  to  behold  spiritual  reality.  The  things  of  the  spirit 
must  be  spiritually  discerned. 

If  When  on  a  serene  night  millions  of  stars  sparkle  in  the 
depths  of  the  sky,  any  man  who  has  bodily  eyes,  although  he  may 
have  no  talent  and  culture,  has  only  to  raise  them  upwards  to 
embrace  at  a  glance  all  the  splendours  of  the  firmament,  and 
thereby  to  receive  into  his  soul,  at  least  in  some  measure,  the 
impressions  which  so  sublime  a  spectacle  is  fitted  to  produce. 
But  there  may  stand  beside  him  one  whose  intellectual  ability  is 
[far  greater,  and  who  has  improved  that  ability  to  the  utmost  by 
'diligent  and  carefully  directed  exercise,  yet  if  Providence  have 
denied  to  him  the  blessing  of  sight,  in  vain  for  him  will  there  be 
all  magnificence.  There  is  another  sky,  and  one  far  grander  than 
the  azure  vault  which  is  stretched  over  our  heads,  and  this  mystic 
sky  is  filled  with  the  stars  of  Divine  truth,  the  wonders  of 
creative  power,  the  mysteries  of  infinite  wisdom,  the  bounties  of 
I'Divine  beneficence,  the  beauties  of  absolute  holiness,  the  marvels 
of  redeeming  love,  the  riches  of  the  Godhead,  the  glories  of 
Father,  Son,  and  Spirit,  shining  far  more  bright  and  pure  than 
the  sun  at  noonday.  And  yet  to  great  men,  to  the  wise  of  this 
world,  to  the  most  scholarly  and  the  most  scientific  of  men,  they 
may  be  quite  invisible,  although  they  are  lighting  up  with  their 
Divine  radiance  the  path  of  the  simple  peasant  and  causing  his 
heart  to  leap  and  sing  with  joy  as  he  beholds  them.i 

j  If  I  remember  very  well  when  Sir  Eedvers  Buller  came  home 
[from  South  Africa,  in  almost  the  first  speech  he  made  after 
landing  at  Southampton,  he  drew  attention  to  the  immense 
superiority  of  the  Boer  over  the  Briton  in  the  matter  of  vision. 
Accustomed  to  the  clear  atmosphere  and  vast  distances  of  South 
Africa,  the  Boer  had  brought  his  sight  faculty  to  such  a  pitch  of 
perfection  that  he  could  see  a  moving  object  a  mile  or  two  farther 
off  than  the  average  Englishman  could,  with  the  result  that  he 
was  aware  of  the  approach  of  the  English  soldier  long  before  the 
Englishman  became  aware  of  his  nearness.  And  Sir  Redvers  did 
not  hesitate  to  set  down  some  of  our  calamities  and  disasters  and 
defeats  to  this  cause.^ 


Robert  Flint. 


^  J.  D.  Jones,  Elims  of  Life,  126. 


438  THE  WOxNDROUS  LAW 


1.  One  cause  of  this  blindness  is  a  hereditary  defect  in  the 
unbelieving  heart,  a  natural  congenital  blindness,  which  the  lapse 
of  years  has  not  cured.  We  are  all  born  blind,  and  remain  blind 
to  moral  and  spiritual  truth  long  after  birth.  Discernment 
between  right  and  wrong,  a  sense  of  duty,  a  sense  of  failure  and 
secret  shame  in  consequence,  is  a  state  or  faculty  into  which  we 
can  grow  only  after  we  have  lived  as  mere  animals  about  four  or 
five  years.  It  takes  some  years  longer  before  we  grow  into 
knowledge  of  the  ideas  of  character,  of  trustworthiness  in  parents, 
of  their  unselfish  love,  and  of  the  intense  kindness  of  that 
discipline  which  at  first  we  resisted  and  resented.  Before  that 
development  we  were  blind,  we  could  not  discern  spiritual  things;  i 
we  could  not  know  what  true  love  is,  for  love  is  the  most  spiritual 
of  all  human  faculties.  It  crowns  the  climax  of  all  strictly  human 
qualities.  But,  though  it  seems  incredible,  it  is  true  that  some 
men  and  women  have  grown  up  without  any  moral  sense  being 
developed,  and  also  without  any  knowledge  or  sense  of  true  love. 

^  I  came  across  a  man  well  advanced  in  years  who  confided 
to  me  that  he  believed  neither  in  God  nor  in  a  future  life.  I  at 
once  asked  him:  "Did  you  ever  really  love  any  one  in  the 
world  ? "  After  some  days'  reflection,  he  replied  to  me :  "  No,  I 
don't  think  I  ever  did  love  anybody — at  least,  not  as  you  define 
true  love."  Now,  if  you  cannot  get  as  far  as  love  in  human 
development,  you  must,  of  course,  be  blind  to  God.  You  cannot 
see  Him,  cannot  take  any  pleasure  in  the  thought  of  Him,  but 
must  be  practically  dead  towards  Him.^ 

2.  Another  cause  of  blindness  is  to  be  found  in  the  conditions 
of  life  which  are  either  forced  upon  u^  or  have  been  chosen  by  our- 
selves. The  worst  and  most  widespread  of  these  conditions  is 
absorption  in  the  concerns  and  pleasures  of  this  life.  Kich  and 
poor  alike  suffer  from  this  absorption,  yet  the  rich  suffer  from  it 
far  more  than  the  poor.  Want  and  distress  may  open  our  eyes  to 
God,  fulness  and  luxury  never.  So  long  as  our  hearts  are  fixed 
wholly  on  worldly  good  and  animal  indulgence,  our  souls  are 
utterly  blind  to  God  and  to  all  spiritual  things. 

^  Christian  saw  in  Interpreter's  House  two  boys.  Passion  and 
Patience.  Passion  had  a  bag  of  gold  in  his  hand,  but  Patience 
was  willing  to  take  his  Governor's  advice  and  wait  for  his  good 

*  Oharles  Voysey. 


PSALM  cxix.  i8 


439 


things  till  the  next  year.  And  these  two  boys,  says  John  Bunyan, 
are  typical  of  the  worldly  man  and  the  true  Christian.  The 
worldly  man,  with  his  favourite  proverb  of  "  A  bird  in  the  hand 
is  worth  two  in  the  bush,"  wants  his  good  things  at  once;  he 
wants  his  bag  of  gold  in  the  hand,  not  seeming  to  realize  that  his 
money  must  perish  with  him ;  but  the  Christian  is  willing  to  do 
without  this  world's  wealth,  because  he  looks  not  at  the  things 
which  are  seen,  but  at  the  things  which  are  not  seen.^ 

^  A  scientist  delivered  a  lecture  a  little  time  ago  in  which  he 
maintained,  on  the  basis  of  studies  started  by  the  observation 
of  the  eye  of  a  wounded  bird,  that  all  diseases  of  the  body 
register  themselves  in  the  eye,  that  it  was  even  possible  to  judge 
the  location  of  the  disease  by  the  part  of  the  pupil  affected. 
Whether  this  can  be  demonstrated  or  not,  there  is  no  doubt  that 
the  eye  has  its  connexion  with  organs  of  the  body  that  are  less 
honourably  placed,  and  is  affected  by  their  accidents  and  dis- 
quietudes. Diseases  of  the  blood  and  of  the  digestive  functions 
cloud  and  vex  the  sight.  You  shall  not  be  careless  of  your 
eating  and  drinking  and  maintain  clear  vision.  The  mists  and 
the  filmy  globes  which  float  before  the  eye  are  the  indices  of 
things  wrong  in  parts  of  the  system  that  are  remote  from  the  eye 
itself,  and  to  be  remedied  by  neither  eye-lotions  nor  glasses.  So 
neglect  of  the  spiritual  life  results  in  blurred  spiritual  vision.* 

3.  Above  and  beyond  these  things  which  naturally  darken 
our  souls,  there  lie  the  conditions  which  we  may  create  for 
ourselves.  Not  knowing  anything  about  the  soul  and  the 
spiritual  life,  some  steep  themselves  in  studies  and  occupations 
which  prevent  all  entrance  of  light  into  their  minds  concerning 
God  and  His  ways.  They  keep  the  company  of  irreligious  and 
unbelieving  men  like  themselves.  They  pore  over  essays  and 
volumes  which  not  only  throw  not  a  gleam  of  light  upon  the 
spiritual  world,  but  are  purposely  written  to  shut  it  out,  to 
make  it  more  and  more  difficult  to  see  God,  to  deepen  the 
darkness  in  which  they  started  on  their  search  for  what  they 
call  "  Truth."  Thus,  blind  at  the  beginning,  they  take  for  their 
guides  men  and  books  still  more  blind  than  themselves,  and 
flounder  on  with  ever  less  and  less  power  to  recover  their 
sight.  And  all  the  while  they  studiously  neglect  those  meani 
by  which  their  eyes  may  be  opened.    They  never  lift  up  their 

*  J.  D.  Jones,  Elims  of  Life,  134. 

«  W.  C.  Piggott,  The  Imperishable  Word,  68. 


THE  WONDROUS  LAW 


hearts  to  God.  They  avoid  all  thoughts  of  religion  unless  only 
to  sneer  at  it,  or  to  look  down  upon  it  with  supercilious  curiosity. 
They  never  attend  public  worship  or  put  themselves  in  the  way 
of  hearing  what  they  never  have  heard.  "What  is  the  use," 
cry  the  more  intelligent  among  them — "what  is  the  use  of 
praying  to  a  God  who  is  absolutely  unknowable  ? "  But  they 
forget  that  God  is  unknowable  only  to  those  who  think  Him 
to  be  so,  to  those  who  never  pray.  If  they  did  but  confer  with 
those  who  have  lifted  up  their  hearts  to  God  and  have  found 
Him,  they  might  be  brought  to  go  down  upon  their  knees  to 
pray,  "  Lord,  open  Thou  mine  eyes  that  I  may  see." 

^  A  little  steam  vessel  in  which  I  was  sailing  round  the 
coast  of  Arran,  emitted  such  a  thick  pall  of  smoke  as  to  blot 
out  the  vision  of  Goat  Fell.  And  sometimes  our  souls  create 
those  obscuring  clouds  and  hide  the  glory  of  God.  It  may  be  the 
vapour  of  pride.  It  may  be  the  steam  of  unclean  passion.  It 
may  be  the  smoke  of  timidity  and  fear. 

0  may  no  earth-born  cloud  arise 

To  hide  Thee  from  Thy  servant's  eyes.^ 

Night  comes ;  soon  alone  shall  fancy  follow  sadly  in  her  flight 
Where  the  fiery  dust  of  evening,  shaken  from  the  feet  of  light. 
Thrusts  its  monstrous  barriers  between  the  pure,  the  good, 
the  true. 

That  our  weeping  eyes  may  strain  for,  but  shall  never  after  view. 
Only  yester  eve  I  watched  with  heart  at  rest  the  nebulae 
Looming  far  within  the  shadowy  shining  of  the  Milky  Way ; 
Finding  in  the  stillness  joy  and  hope  for  all  the  sons  of  men ; 
Now  what  silent  anguish  fills  a  night  more  beautiful  than  then : 
For  earth's  age  of  pain  has  come,  and  all  her  sister  planets 
weep. 

Thinking  of  her  fires  of  morning  passing  into  dreamless  sleep. 
In  this  cycle  of  great  sorrow  for  the  moments  that  we  last 
We  too  shall  be  linked  by  weeping  to  the  greatness  of  her 
past : 

But  the  coming  race  shall  know  not,  and  the  fount  of  tears 
shall  dry, 

And  the  arid  heart  of  man  shall  be  arid  as  the  desert  sky. 
So  within  my  mind  the  darkness  dawned,  and  round  me 
everywhere 

Hope  departed  with  the  twilight,  leaving  only  dumb  despair.^ 

1  J.  H.  Jowett.  *  A.  E.,  Collected  Poems  (1918),  25. 


PSALM  cxix.  i8 


441 


V. 

The  Psalmist  does  not  ask  for  a  new  faculty,  but  for  clearer 
vision.  The  eyes  are  there  already ;  they  need  only  to  be  opened. 
It  is  not  the  bestowal  of  a  new  and  supernatural  power  that 
enables  a  man  to  read  the  Bible  to  profit,  but  the  quickening 
of  a  power  he  already  possesses.  A  man  will  never  grow  into 
the  knowledge  of  God's  Word  by  idly  waiting  for  some  new 
gift  of  discernment,  but  by  diligently  using  that  which  God  has 
already  bestowed  upon  him,  and  using  at  the  same  time  all 
other  helps  that  lie  within  his  reach.  There  are  men  and  books 
that  seem,  beyond  others,  to  have  the  power  of  aiding  insight. 
All  of  us  have  felt  it  in  the  contact  of  some  affinity  of  nature 
which  makes  them  our  best  helpers ;  the  kindred  clay  upon  the 
eyes  by  which  the  great  Enlightener  removes  our  blindness 
(John  ix.  6).  Let  us  seek  for  such,  and  if  we  find  them  let  us 
employ  them  without  leaning  on  them.  Above  all,  let  us  give 
our  whole  mind  in  patient,  loving  study  to  the  book  itself,  and 
where  we  fail,  at  any  essential  part,  God  will  either  send  His 
evangelist  Philip  to  our  aid  (Acts  viii.)  or  instruct  us  Himself. 
But  it  is  only  to  patient,  loving  study  that  help  is  given.  God 
could  have  poured  all  knowledge  into  us  by  easy  inspiration,  but  it 
is  by  earnest  search  alone  that  it  can  become  the  treasure  of  the  soul. 

1.  If  we  are  to  get  spiritual  sight  our  prayer  must  be 
sincere.  The  old  Hebrew  poet,  speaking  with  a  true  insight 
confirmed  by  experience,  says:  "If  thou  seek  him,  he  will  be 
found  of  thee ;  yea,  if  thou  seek  him  diligently  with  thy  whole 
heart."  That  is  the  secret.  It  will  not  do  to  be  seeking  God 
with  a  heart  looking  back  to  the  idol  which  had  taken  His  place. 
It  will  not  do  to  be  wanting  to  have  God  and  the  idol  at  one 
and  the  same  time.  God  has  made  that  to  be  impossible  for 
the  soul  of  man.  One  God  or  idol  at  a  time,  or  not  God  at  all. 
And  while  any  lingering  love  for  the  idol  remains,  there  is  no 
room  for  God  to  enter  in.  It  is  not  His  fault,  or  His  unwilling- 
ness, or  His  jealousy.  But  it  is  our  own  Divine  incapacity  to 
trifle  or  dissemble  with  Him;  it  is  our  own  Divine  necessity 
for  wholeness,  for  uprightness  and  sincerity,  that  makes  any 
attempt  at  double-mindedness  futile. 


442  THE  WONDROUS  LAW 

^  An  old  colleague  and  friend  of  Denholm  Brash  writes  : — 
"  Chief  among  my  impressions  of  his  excellences  is  that  of  his 
utter  sincerity.  It  was  so  invariable  that  it  bewildered  the 
average  man.  He  never  troubled  about  maintaining  any 
position  he  might  have  taken  up  yesterday.  He  told  you 
what  he  thought  to-day ;  every  passing  mood  was  faithfully 
reflected  in  his  words;  the  fleeting  opinion  or  feeling  was  not 
concealed.  You  were  allowed  to  trace  processes  in  his  thought 
which  most  men  hide  from  view.  ...  I  have  seen  him  confound 
an  old  fox  of  a  man  by  sheer  candour.  He  left  the  enemy 
breathless  with  surprise  at  a  simplicity  he  had  thought  faded 
out  of  the  world  with  Eden.  The  man's  arts  would  have  been 
a  match  for  any  arts  they  encountered,  but  artlessness  dumb- 
founded him.  The  armour  of  light  not  only  defended  the  wearer, 
but  dismayed  the  assailant.  Never  was  this  servant  of  truth  *  off 
duty,'  and  with  the  audacious  simplicity  of  love  he  would  attack 
an  apparently  impregnable  fortress,  and  with  one  well-planted 
shot  would  bring  a  whole  pile  of  hypocrisies  toppling  down.  He 
had  a  short  method  with  some  of  these  Goliaths  which  worked 
wonders."  ^ 

2.  We  must  bring  our  hearts  into  harmony  with  the  law. 
At  South  Kensington  there  is  a  clock  made  above  500  years 
ago  under  the  hammer  of  a  Glastonbury  monk.  It  has  measured 
out  the  moments  of  fifteen  generations  of  men.  That  piece  of 
mechanism  has  done  and  is  still  doing  its  maker's  will.  It  has 
served  its  maker's  purpose.  It  fulfils  his  praiseworthy  intention 
and  so  praises  him.  Every  stroke  of  its  pendulum  is  to  the  glory 
of  the  Glastonbury  smith.  The  thing  has  done  good  and  done 
right.  It  keeps  (so  to  say)  its  maker's  commandment.  What 
he  meant  it  to  do  it  has  done  well  and  truly.  Perhaps  it  may 
seem  a  little  strained  to  apply  such  phraseology  to  a  piece  of 
inanimate  mechanism,  but  it  will  surely  aid  us  in  seeing  what 
the  moralist  means  by  telling  men  to  live  as  they  were  meant 
to  live.  Think  of  this  clockwork  of  the  brain,  this  delicate 
mechanism  of  thought  and  feeling.  Year  in,  year  out,  the  restless 
wheels  of  desire  and  feeling,  of  thought  and  passion,  play  into 
one  another  and  mark  results  on  the  solemn  dial  of  life.  Matters 
may  be  bo  mismanaged  as  to  put  the  machinery  into  a  whirl 
of  wild  confusion.    It  is,  on  the  other  hand,  possible  to  secure 

*  L&ve  and  Life :  TJie  Story  of  J.  Denholm  Brash,  168. 


PSALM  cxix.  i8 


443 


such  inward  adjustment,  such  balance,  such  regulative  control, 
such  true  impulse,  as  to  make  the  soul  a  splendid  harmony 
and  the  life  a  utility  which  men  acknowledge  with  reverence 
and  benediction.  With  God's  works  as  with  man's  the  essential 
thing  is  to  be  true  to  the  Maker's  purpose.  There  is  a  command- 
ment, a  Divine  intention,  to  which  every  one  must  be  true.  "  Thy 
hands  have  made  me,  and  fashioned  me ;  give  me  understanding 
that  I  may  learn  thy  commandment." 

^  The  Lord  will  draw  us  and  securely  lead  us  to  Himself, 
in  a  way  contrary  to  all  our  natural  will,  until  He  have  divested 
us  thereof,  and  consumed  it  and  made  it  thoroughly  subject  unto 
the  Divine  will.  For  this  is  His  will :  that  we  should  cease  to 
regard  our  own  wishes  or  dislikes ;  that  it  should  become  a 
light  matter  to  us  whether  He  give  or  take  away,  whether 
we  have  abundance  or  suffer  want,  and  let  all  things  go,  if  only 
we  may  receive  and  apprehend  God  Himself ;  that,  whether 
things  please  or  displease  us,  we  may  leave  all  things  to  take 
their  course  and  cleave  to  Him  alone.  Then  first  do  we  attain 
to  the  fulness  of  God's  love  as  His  children,  when  it  is  no 
longer  happiness  or  misery,  prosperity  or  adversity,  that  draws 
us  to  Him,  or  keeps  us  back  from  Him.  What  we  should  then 
experience  none  can  utter ;  but  it  would  be  something  far  better 
than  when  w^e  were  burning  with  the  first  flame  of  love,  and  had 
great  emotion  but  less  true  submission  ;  for  here,  though  there 
may  be  less  show  of  zeal,  and  less  vehemence  of  feeling,  there 
is  more  true  faithfulness  to  God.  That  we  may  attain  thereunto, 
may  God  help  us  with  His  grace.   Amen  !  ^ 

3.  In  proportion  as  we  love  and  obey  the  law,  its  wonders 
unfold  themselves  to  our  cleansed  vision.  Emerson  says  in  his 
essay  on  Nature,  "  The  health  of  the  eye  seems  to  demand  a 
horizon.  We  are  never  tired  so  long  as  we  can  see  far  enough," 
It  is  quite  true  that  wide  vision  is  refreshing.  We  have  all  been 
more  depressingly  tired  in  our  own  houses  than  on  the  broad 
upland  and  under  the  open  sky.  The  mountaineer  in  his  loftiest 
adventure  knows  no  such  oppressive  weariness  as  the  woman 
who  sits  "in  unwomanly  rags  plying  her  needle  and  thread." 
The  man  with  the  widest  and  furthest  vision  is  the  man  with 
the  most  exuberant  energy.  Jesus,  even  with  Getbsemane  and 
Calvary  before  Him,  is  not  so  weary  of  life  as  Judas.    St.  Paul  in 

^  Tauler's  Life  and  Sermons  (trans,  by  Susanna  Winkworth),  297. 


444  THE  WONDROUS  LAW 


labours  more  abundant  is  never  so  jaded  as  Nero.  The 
early  Christian  martyrs,  with  their  vision  of  the  Name,  amid 
all  the  unspeakable  horror  of  their  torture,  were  not  so  weary 
of  their  sufferings  as  their  persecutors  were  weary  of  their 
persecution.  They  might  still  sing,  as  Chesterton  splendidly 
puts  it  in  the  "  Ballad  of  the  White  Horse," 

That  on  you  is  fallen  the  shadow, 

And  not  upon  the  Name; 
That  though  we  scatter  and  though  we  fly 
And  you  hang  over  us  like  the  sky. 
You  are  more  tired  of  victory 

Than  we  are  tired  of  shame. 

That  though  you  hunt  the  Christian  man 

Like  a  hare  on  the  hill  side. 
The  hare  has  still  more  heart  to  run 

Than  you  have  heart  to  ride. 
That  though  all  lances  split  on  you, 

All  swords  be  heaved  in  vain. 
We  have  more  lust  again  to  lose 

Than  you  to  win  again. 


Liberty  in  God's  Law. 


44  s 


Literature. 


Bramston  (J.  T.),  Fratribus,  125. 
Campbell  (L.),  The  Christian  Ideal,  109. 
Farrar  (F.  W.),  The  Voice  from  Sinai,  85. 
Ferguson  (F.),  in  Sermons  on  the  Paalms,  115. 
King  (E.),  The  Love  aiid  Wisdom  of  God,  294. 
Knight  (W.),  Thiyigs  New  and  Old,  172. 
Roberts  (A.),  Miscellaneous  Sermons,  295. 
Selbj  (T.  G.),  The  Strenuous  Gospel,  380. 
Stanley  (A.  P.),  Sermons  in  the  East,  123. 
Thomas  (J.),  Myrtle  Street  Pulpit,  iii.  19. 

Christian  World  Pulpit,  xxivii.  355  (M.  Bryce) ;  1.  121  (E.  King). 
PreacJi^r's  Magazine,  ii.  220  (W.  Hawkins). 
Sunday  Magazine,  1891,  p.  171  (S.  A.  Tipple). 
Treasury  (New  York),  xxi.  675  (H.  C.  Swentzel). 


446 


Liberty  in  God's  Law. 


I  have  seen  an  end  of  all  perfection ; 

But  thy  commandment  is  exceeding  broad.— Ps.  cxix.  96. 

This  psalm  throbs  throughout  with  true  religion,  and  is  evidently 
the  production  of  some  venerable  father  in  Israel  who  had 
endured  greatly  and  had  not  fainted;  who  had  been  divinely 
taught  and  chastened  by  the  toils,  the  troubles,  and  the  tempta- 

|tions  of  life ;  who  had  striven  to  live  in  loyalty  to  the  law  revealed 
to  him,  and  was  left  at  once  ardent  about  right  doing,  and  devoted 
to  meditation  ;  at  once  sadly  conscious  of  infirmity  and  weakness, 
and  joyfully  trustful  in  God's  goodness  and  mercy.  Nevertheless, 
though  thus  confident,  the  writer  of  the  psalm  confesses,  "  I  have 
seen  an  end  of  all  perfection."  There  is  a  sound  of  weariness  and 
depression  in  the  words ;  we  can  hear  speaking  in  them  a  man 
who  had  suffered  disenchantments  and  disappointments,  who  had 
tried  things  that  looked  inviting  to  find  them  less  charming  than 

I  they  looked,  void  of  what  they  had  promised ;  a  man  who  had 

'  aimed  sanguinely  in  vain,  and  had  sorrowfully  learned  that  it  must 
always  be  in  vain ;  who  had  nursed  bright  expectations  that  had 
not  been  fulfilled,  although  again  and  again  he  had  felt  sure  that 

.  they  were  going  to  be,  and  who  knew  now  they  never  could  be. 

^  This  was  the  favourite  text  of  Dean  Stanley,  a  choice 
characteristic  alike  of  the  man  and  of  his  work :  "  I  see  that  all 
things  come  to  an  end ;  but  Thy  commandment  is  exceeding 
broad."  [Prayer-Book  Version.]  These  words  are  inscribed  on 
his  own  and  his  wife's  tomb  in  Henry  vii.'s  chapel  in  Westminster 
Abbey. 

L 

The  Unsatisfactoriness  of  Our  Expeeience. 

1.  It  was  no  young  man  who  spoke  the  words  of  the  text; 

young  people  have  not  seen  "  an  end  of  all  perfection,"  have  not 

447 


448  LIBERTY  IN  GOD'S  LAW 


arrived  at  the  conclusion  that  every  radiance  is  stained  by  the 
shadow  of  defect,  that  the  fullest  is  not  full,  the  most  complete 
incomplete.  On  the  contrary,  they  are  setting  out  to  climb  to 
the  top  of  delectable  mountains  descried  in  the  distance,  where 
they  shall  build  their  tabernacle  and  stay.  They  have  visions  of 
the  perfect,  and  count  on  realizing  them — would  infallibly  realize 
them,  they  say  to  themselves,  if  only  such  or  such  circumstances 
were  granted  them;  and  what  is  there  to  which  they  may  not 
attain  with  all  the  world  before  them  ?  No ;  he  who  uttered  the 
exclamation  of  the  text  must  have  been  a  comparatively  old  man 
— a  man,  at  all  events,  who  had  lived  much,  who  had  passed 
through  many  vicissitudes ;  who  had  found  out  with  oft-repeated 
trial  how  much  he  could  not  do  of  what  he  once  thought  him- 
self capable  of  doing,  the  delusiveness  of  many  an  apparent 
possibility. 

^  There  was  much  in  1850  to  sadden  Watts ;  the  want  of 
response,  except  amongst  his  own  personal  friends,  to  all  the 
enthusiasm  with  which  he  had  returned  to  England,  full  of  faith 
in  a  revival  of  great  art,  was  making  itself  felt  with  chilling 
effect  year  by  year.  In  a  moment  of  depression  he  writes :  "  I  do 
not  expect  at  most  to  have  the  opportunity  of  doing  more  than 
prepare  the  way  for  better  men — and  not  that  always;  more 
often  I  sit  among  the  ruins  of  my  aspirations,  watching  the  tide  of 
time."  No  wonder  that  in  such  a  mood  he  once  signed  "  Finis  "  in 
the  corner  of  one  of  his  pictures.  But  the  challenge  to  despair 
was  given  by  Mr.  Euskin,  who,  on  reading  the  word,  took  up  the 
charcoal  and  added  beneath,  "  et  initium."  If  the  end,  then  a 
beginning ;  and  so  it  proved  to  be.^ 

2.  Perhaps  the  disillusion  which  depressed  the  Psalmist,  and 
for  which  he  had  found  an  antidote  in  the  permanence  and 
magnitude  of  the  Divine  law,  was  not  limited  to  the  religious 
aspect  of  life  only.  By  his  own  simple  pathway  he  had  reached 
the  conclusion,  familiar  to  modern  thinkers,  that  the  present 
world  is  not  of  unimpeachable  perfection,  but  a  chaos  of  knotted 
problems,  amazing  anomalies,  clashing  interests,  contending 
principles.  He  set  out  with  other  views,  but  he  reminds  himself 
that  moral  processes  go  on  working  themselves  out  upon  a  scale 
of  immeasurable  greatness,  when  the  secular  movements  which 

*  Oeorge  Frederic  Watts,  i.  126. 


PSALM  cxix.  96  449 

once  promised  amelioration  are  threatened  with  arrest  and  defeat. 
God's  inward  law,  larger  than  the  designs  appearing  in  the 
history  of  contemporary  nations,  forms  the  centre  round  which 
his  baffled  and  faltering  faith  rallies.  Spiritual  ends  are  con- 
tinued in  that  larger  kingdom  of  the  unseen.  God's  changeless 
and  ever-enlarging  law  of  right  satisfies  that  sense  of  moral 
greatness  which  the  course  of  secular  events  so  often  seems  to 
mock. 

H  I  am  old  enough  to  be  done  with  work,  only  that  I  feel  that 
my  best  words  have  not  been  said  after  all,  that  what  has  been 
said  is  not  its  full  expression.  All  is  incomplete,  and  I  must 
wait  for  the  fresh,  strong  life  of  immortality,  in  the  hope  that 
through  the  mercy  of  Him  who  "  knoweth  our  frame "  and  our 
weaknesses,  I  may  be  enabled  to  do  better  with  the  talent  He  has 
given  me  than  I  have  done.^ 

^  The  longer  we  live  the  less  we  are  inclined  to  be  hero- 
worshippers,  seeing  more  failings  in  the  men  and  things  we 
revered  in  the  enthusiasm  of  youth.  "  I  have  seen  an  end  of  all 
perfection " ;  but  it  is  well  if  we  can  add,  "  thy  commandment  is 
exceeding  broad."  The  more,  however,  we  get  to  know  the 
temptations  and  trials  of  men,  and  feel  how  our  own  accomplish- 
ment falls  short  of  our  ideal,  the  more  charitable  we  become.^ 

One  day  I  grieved  because  our  greatest  gain 

Grows  pale  beside  the  smallest  loss  we  feel; 

One  hour  of  wrong  can  years  of  right  repeal; 
One  faulty  link  can  spoil  the  strongest  chain; 
One  little  thorn  can  cause  a  cruel  pain 

That  twice  ten  thousand  roses  cannot  heal; 

One  harsh  discordant  note  can  straightway  steal 
All  harmony  from  e'en  the  sweetest  strain. 
To  these  my  doubts  there  came  an  answer  sure — 

"  God's  laws  are  right  if  rightly  understood ! 

Man's  patent  of  perfection  lies  in  this. 
That  nought  imperfect  can  his  soul  endure: 

The  highest  natures  seek  the  highest  good 

Till  they  are  perfect  as  their  Father  is."^ 

*  Life  and  Letters  of  J.  G.  Whittier,  ii.  657. 

2  John  Ker,  Thoughts  for  Heart  and  Life,  13. 

^  Ellen  Thorneycroft  Fowler,  Verses^  Wise  or  Otherunse,  189. 


PS.  xxv.-cxix. — 29 


450 


LIBERTY  IN  GOD'S  LAW 


II. 

The  Satisfactoriness  of  GtOd's  Law. 

I      1.  Everything  earthly  is  only  partial;  it  covers  only  a  part 

1  of  life.  Whether  it  be  wealth,  fame,  knowledge,  power,  it  has 
a  limit ;  its  territory  is  not  commensurate  with  the  whole  life  of 
man.  Though  I  have  all  knowledge,  said  the  Apostle,  and  under- 
stand all  mysteries,  and  have  not  love,  it  profiteth  me  nothing. 
Knowledge  is  measurable.  There  are  heights  and  depths  of  spirit 
which  it  cannot  fill.  There  is  a  limit  to  it.  The  only  thing 
' ;  immeasurable  is  love,  for  love  is  the  Infinite  Himself.  Nothing 

\  can  endure  for  ever  except  that  which  touches  the  deeps  of  life, 
for  that  which  is  only  fragmentary  and  partial  must  pass  away. 
So  there  is  an  end  to  it  also  in  the  sense  of  termination  because 
the  limited  must  terminate ;  and,  because  there  is  an  end  to  it,  it 

■  will  not  satisfy  us.  We  must  have  something  without  an  end, 
because  the  spirit  of  man  is  larger  than  time,  larger  than  any 

,  finite  period ;  and,  however  man  may  have  sometimes  tried  in  the 
perverseness  of  his  heart  to  deny  it,  he  is  still  a  child  of 

I  immortality,  and  nothing  less  than  immortality  filled  to  the 
brim  with  possession  will  ever  satisfy  the  yearning  of  man. 
"  Broad  is  thy  command  exceedingly."  That  is,  it  is  immeasur- 
able, it  has  no  limit.  This  must  be  the  Psalmist's  meaning, 
otherwise  the  contrast  fails,  and  the  command  of  God,  being 
limited,  must  be  declared  inadequate  like  all  other  perfections. 
But  the  word  of  God  has  no  limit  whatsoever.  Immeasurable  \ 
As  soon  as  we  touch  the  command  of  God  with  our  heart  and 
soul  and  spirit,  at  once  we  know  that  we  are  at  the  centre  of 
immeasurableness.  It  reveals  to  us  straight  away  the  infinite 
God,  the  soul,  and  immortality. 

!  ^  There  are  two  things,"  said  Kant,  "  that  fill  me  with 
amazement,  the  starry  heaven  above  me,  and  the  moral  law 
within  me."  Both  of  them  immeasurable,  stretching  away  into 
infinity,  with  man  at  the  centre  of  them ;  yet  God's  word  is 
higher  than  the  heavens,  and  when  the  moral  law  has  touched 
the  life  of  man  he  knows  that  he  belongs  to  the  infinite  vast,  and 
cannot  be  satisfied  without  it.^ 

^  J.  Thomas. 


\ 


PSALM  cxix.  96 


451 


^  Man  feels  capacities  within  him  that  ask  an  eternity  for 
bloom  and  fruitage.  There  is  in  nature  something  that  sends  him 
in  yearning  search  beyond  and  above  nature. 

That  type  of  perfect  in  his  mind 
In  nature  can  he  nowhere  find. 
He  sows  himself  on  every  wind. 

In  the  entire  universe,  as  revealed  to  man  by  his  senses,  there 
is  nothing  perfect ;  and  the  central  impulse  in  all  man's  noblest 
striving  is  derived  from  the  aspiration  of  his  spirit  towards  a 
perfect  truth,  a  perfect  beauty,  a  perfect  happiness,  which  are 
exemplified  nowhere  in  the  world.  Art,  religion,  and  the  im- 
petuous career  of  the  race  towards  a  higher  grade  of  civilization, 
depend  alike  upon  universal  imperfection  of  the  material  world 
and  the  impossibility  that  a  God-related  spirit,  which  man  is, 
should  be  contented  therewith.^ 

2.  Our  advance  is  towards  this  infinite.  It  is  in  an  unbroken 
advance  towards  it  that  human  excellence  consists.  The  standard 
of  perfection  lifts  itself  on  new  heights  with  the  march  of  each 
new  day  and  month.  The  perfection  of  yesterday  ceases  to  be 
the  perfection  of  to-day,  because  the  commandment  is  ever  adding 
increments  to  the  demands  it  makes  upon  us,  and  binding  the 
conscience  with  fresh  sanctions.  As  men  are  emancipated  from 
the  senses  and  ushered  into  more  delicate  spheres  of  perception 
and  experience,  they  find  themselves  face  to  face  with  new  laws 
that  have  to  be  kept,  new  decalogues  that  must  be  reverently 
obeyed,  new  obligations  that  must  be  strenuously  fulfilled. 

If  The  law  which  the  God  of  righteousness,  and  the  Father  of 
all  the  families  of  the  earth,  may  impose  upon  the  children  of 
men  is  obviously  larger  in  its  range  of  applications  than  the  law 
congruous  to  the  sovereignty  of  one  known  chiefly  as  the  Lord  of 
Hosts,  and  the  Defender  of  an  isolated  group  of  clans.  The 
precepts  breathed  into  the  conscience  by  One  who  has  come  into 
immediate  converse  with  His  worshippers  exceed  in  scope  and 
/surpass  in  fine  discriminations  the  precepts  enjoined  by  a  Divine 
'  King  who  dwells  apart  and  is  adored  from  afar  by  a  people  smitten 
vwith  fear  because  of  His  majesty.    To  know  the  length  and 
I  breadth,  the  depth  and  height  of  the  love  which  surpasseth  know- 
i  ledge  means  that  the  soul  is  brought  face  to  face  with  ranges  of 
the  commandment  hitherto  unexplored  by  human  thought.  The 

^  P.  Bayne,  Lessons  from  My  Masters,  284. 


LIBERTY  IN  GOD'S  LAW 


law  cannot  possibly  be  the  same  for  an  Israelite  who  stands  before 
the  flame-girt  Horeb  and  the  believer  who  bows  wondering  before 
the  Cross  where  the  Man  of  Sorrows  bears  the  burdens  of  man- 
kind. The  commandment  is  broad  before  the  vision  of  the  man, 
to  whom  all  life  is  becoming  a  theophany.^ 

Christ  is  the  personification  not  of  one  part  only,  but  of  the 
whole  of  the  law  of  God.  His  character  has  not  the  littleness  of 
a  mere  teacher,  nor  the  narrowness  of  a  hermit  or  a  saint,  nor  the 
eccentricity  of  genius.  "His  shoulder,"  as  the  Prophet  says,  is 
broad  enough  to  bear  the  government  "  and  the  sins  of  the  whole 
world.  His  mind  is  wide  enough  to  sympathize  with  all  our 
infirmities,  as  well  as  with  all  our  efforts  after  good  in  every 
J  direction.  No  griefs  of  life  are  more  trying  than  those  which 
\  arise  from  the  half-goodness  or  the  half -wisdom  of  those  whom 
we  wish  to  love  and  respect.  It  is  when  we  think  of  these  things 
that  the  Perfect  Law  and  the  Perfect  Mind  of  Christ  is  so  in- 
expressibly consoling.2 

3.  Unlike  that  story  of  the  iron  shroud  or  room,  which 
enclosed  its  prisoner,  day  by  day,  within  a  narrower  and  narrower 
circle,  the  chamber  of  duty  and  of  God's  commandment  widens, 
and  opens,  and  expands  with  new  interests,  new  enjoyments,  new 
affections,  new  hopes,  at  every  successive  step  we  take,  till  we  find 
ourselves  at  last  in  that  Presence,  where  there  is  indeed  "  fulness 
of  joy  and  pleasures  for  evermore." 

Our  earthly  life,  the  earthly  life  of  those  whom  we  have 
known  and  loved,  is  cut  short  by  that  dark  abyss  into  which  we 
cannot  penetrate,  and  over  which  our  thoughts  can  hardly  pass. 
But  God's  commandment — and  the  fulfilment  of  God's  command- 
ment— is  "exceeding  broad";  it  is  broad  enough  to  span  even 
that  wide  and  deep  river  which  parts  this  life  and  the  next. 
For  it  is  this  that  makes  this  life  and  the  next  life  one.  Know- 
ledge, prophecies,  gifts  of  all  kinds  pass  away,  but  the  love  of  God 
and  the  love  of  man  never  fail.  They  continue  into  the  unseen 
world  beyond  the  grave  ;  the  remembrance  of  these  things,  as  we 
have  known  them  here,  enables  us  still  to  think  of  them  there ; 
the  unselfish  purpose,  the  generous  sympathy,  the  deep  affection, 
the  transparent  sincerity,  the  long  self-control,  the  simple  humility, 
of  those  to  whom  the  commandment  of  God  has  been  precious— 

1  T.  G.  Selby,  The  Strenums  Gospel,  394. 
^  A.  P.  Stanley,  Serrnons  in  the  Fast,  129. 


J 


PSALM  cxix.  96 


453 


these  are  the  arches  of  that  bridge  on  which  our  thoughts  and 
hopes  cross  and  re-cross  the  widest  and  most  mysterious  of  all  the 
chasms  which  divide  us ;  the  gulf  which  divides  the  dead  and  the 
living,  the  gulf  which  divides  God  and  man. 

^  In  Stark's  Life  of  Murker  of  Banfif  we  have  this  portrait  of 
a  church  member :  The  last  day  on  which  her  pastor  saw  Elspeth 
alive  he  asked, "  Have  you  no  fears  at  all  in  crossing  the  Jordan  ? " 
"  No,"  was  the  reply,  "  what  should  I  be  fear'd  for,  when  I  see 
Him  who  is  the  life  an'  the  resurrection  on  the  ither  side.  His 
word  drives  awa'  a'  the  mists.  I'm  just  like  a  bairn  that's  been 
awa'  on  the  fields  pu'in'  flowers,  an'  I  maun  confess  whyles  chasin' 
butterflies,  and  noo  when  the  sun's  fa'en  I'm  gaun  toddlin'  hame. 
I've  a  wee  bit  burnie  to  cross ;  but,  man,  there's  the  stappin'-stanes 
o'  His  promises,  an'  wi'  my  feet  firm  on  them,  I've  nae  cause  tae 
fear."  After  awhile  she  again  opened  her  lips,  and  was  heard  to 
say,  "  He  is  wi'  me  in  the  swellings  of  Jordan."  ^ 

III. 

The  Value  of  Dissatisfaction. 

i  1.  The  Psalmist  had  desired  and  purposed  to  keep  God's  law, 
to  be  and  to  do  the  best  according  to  his  light,  and  had  never  been 
able  to  accomplish  his  object,  had  been  always  falling  short  of  it ; 
the  perfection  he  craved  and  sought  had  always  evaded  him ;  he 
had  striven  worthily,  and  had  more  or  less  done  worthily  too ;  but 
it  did  not  satisfy  him — there  was  an  excellence  to  be  reached  that 
was  not  reached.  Or  he  had  had  conceptions  of  duty  that  had 
seemed  to  him  all-comprehending,  embracing  all  that  could  be 
required  of  him.  Here,  he  had  thought,  was  the  whole  duty  of 
man ;  but  in  acting  out,  or  endeavouring  to  act  out,  these  concep- 
tions, others,  larger  and  loftier,  had  risen  upon  him.  In  follow- 
ing his  standard  of  right,  the  standard  rose,  leaving  him  far 
behind  when  he  fancied  himself  nigh ;  in  yielding  to  the  demands 
of  conscience',  the  demands  increased ;  the  more  he  did,  the  more 
his  obligation  grew ;  so  that  he  would  have  said  with  a  modern 
poet — 

I  see  the  wider  but  I  sigh  the  more. 
Most  progress  is  most  failure. 

1  J.  Stark,  John  Murker  of  Banff,  188. 


454 


LIBERTY  IN  GOD'S  LAW 


Nothing  satisfied  the  Psalmist;  the  present  discredited  the 
past,  only  to  be  in  its  turn  discredited;  every  seeming  fulness 
proved  shortly  an  illusion,  and  why  ?  Because  a  Divine  command- 
ment had  been  revealed  to  him  which  continually  transcended  all, 
which  was  continually  showing  something  more  and  greater  to 
be  done,  and  continually  urging  him  on  when  any  height  was 
gained.  The  more  he  looked  into  it,  the  more  it  enlarged  for 
him  the  field  of  duty.  When  he  fancied  he  had  fulfilled  all,  it 
would  straightway  be  whispering  in  his  ear  some  fresh  claim; 
when  he  meditated  repose,  it  would  still  be  disturbing  him.  Had 
he  not  known  this  commandment,  he  might  have  known  the  peace 
of  satisfaction ;  it  was  its  presence  with,  and  pressure  on,  him  that 
made  an  end  of  perfection,  and  kept  him  always  discontented  with 
the  best  that  had  been  wrought.  Yet  our  Psalmist  would  not 
have  been  without  the  commandment.  "  Oh,  how  I  love  thy  law ! " 
he  cries,  in  the  very  next  verse.  This,  in  fact,  was  his  distinction, 
his  dignity,  and  blessedness — that  he  had  it  to  his  perpetual  rest- 
lessness and  dissatisfaction,  and  could  not  be  as  careless  and 
happy  as  the  heathen,  though  he  should  propose  to  be;  that 
he  had  a  vision  of  the  right  and  of  the  good  which  robbed 
him  of  ease,  and  before  which  every  highest  attainment  paled 
to  poorness. 

(      Here  is  the  beautiful  Divine  secret  of  our  troubled  dissatisfac- 
?  tion  with  things ;  that  we  bear  within  us  a  commandment  greater 
than  ourselves,  and  are  more  than  we  are  or  can  be.    Our  ever- 
lasting sense  of  limitation  means  that  our  illimitableness,  our 
unappeasable  hunger  is  due  to  our  self-transcending  capacity; 
nothing  contents  us  because  we  are  more  than  everything,  because 
we  are  not  a  mere  part  of  the  visible  system,  but  include,  so  to 
speak,  something  supernatural;  capabilities,  susceptibilities,  not  ■ 
adjusted  like  the  powers  of  other  creatures  to  the  scope  and  / 
conditions  of  this  mortal  life,  but  overshooting  them.    And  here,  / 
in  the  grander  than  ourselves,  or  the  world — for  the  world  is  j 
'  always  insufficient  for  it,  and  we  are  always  inferior  to  it — here 
in  the  grander  than  ourselves  or  the  world  which,  possessing  us, 
,  keeps  us  ever  insatiable,  ever  unable  to  find  perfection,  let  the 
;  world  yield  us  what  it  will,  or  let  us  grow  to  what  we  may — here 
is  the  God  of  whom  we  dream  and  never  hear  or  see,  and  whom 
men  seek  in  vain  to  prove. 


PSALM  cxix.  96 


455 


We  feel,  do  we  not  ?  that  we  are  capable  of  developments  in 
knowledge  and  virtue  which  are  never  reached,  that  we  are 
always  imperfect  at  our  best  and  greatest,  and  yet  that  there  is 
no  goodness  or  greatness  to  which  we  may  not  aspire ;  that  there 
are  no  limits  to  our  possible  progress.  We  are  burdened  with  an 
ideal  which,  strive  and  attain  as  we  may,  is  always  reproaching, 
depreciating,  condemning  us,  always  looking  down  on  us  with  eyes 
of  disdain.  There  is  that  in  us  which  declares  continually  that 
we  might  be  and  ought  to  be  what  we  cannot  be,  what  with  all 
our  wistfulness  and  effort  we  are  perpetually  hindered  from  being. 
And  what  does  it  signify  but  that  we  are  invaded  by  the  Infinite 
— that  God  is  in  us  ?  Our  weary  unrest,  our  successive  disen- 
chantments  and  disappointments,  our  scorn  of  what  we  have 
gained  or  wrought,  our  sighs,  as  we  "  look  before  and  after,  and 
pine  for  what  is  not " — these  are  the  hints  and  tokens  of  God. 

If  Inward  distaste — emptiness — discontent.  Is  it  trouble  of 
conscience,  or  sorrow  of  heart  ?  or  the  soul  preying  upon  itself  ? 
or  merely  a  sense  of  strength  decaying  and  time  running  to  waste  ? 
Is  sadness — or  regret — or  fear — at  the  root  of  it  ?  I  do  not  know : 
but  this  dull  sense  of  misery  has  danger  in  it ;  it  leads  to  rash 
efforts  and  mad  decisions.  0  for  escape  from  self,  for  something 
to  stifle  the  importunate  voice  of  want  and  yearning  !  Discontent 
is  the  father  of  temptation.  How  can  we  gorge  the  invisible 
serpent  hidden  at  the  bottom  of  our  well, — gorge  it  so  that  it  may 
sleep  ?  At  the  heart  of  all  this  rage  and  vain  rebellion  there  lies 
— what  ?  Aspiration,  yearning !  We  are  athirst  for  the  infinite 
— for  love — for  I  know  not  what.  It  is  the  instinct  of  happiness, 
which  like  some  wild  animal  is  restless  for  its  prey.  It  is  God 
calling — God  avenging  Himself.^ 

2.  It  would  not  answer  even  for  the  Christian  who  has  meant 
to  surrender  his  will,  and  really  wants  to  be  perfected  in  the  will 
of  God,  to  be  made  safe  in  his  plans  and  kept  in  continual  train 
of  successes.  He  wants  a  reminder  every  hour — some  defeat, 
surprise,  adversity,  peril ;  to  be  agitated,  mortified,  beaten  out  of 
his  courses,  so  that  all  that  remains  of  self-will  in  him  may  be  sifted 
out  of  him,  and  the  very  scent  of  his  old  perversity  cleared.  If 
we  could  be  excused  from  all  these  changes  and  somersets,  and  go 
on  securely  in  our  projects,  it  would  ruin  the  best  of  us.  Life 

^  AmieVs  Journal  (trans,  by  Mrs.  Humphry  Ward),  271. 


456  LIBERTY  IN  GOD'S  LAW 

needs  to  have  an  element  of  danger  and  agitation, — perilous, 
changeful,  eventful ;  we  need  to  have  our  evil  will  met  by 
the  stronger  will  of  God,  in  order  to  be  kept  advised,  by  our 
experience,  of  the  impossibility  of  that  which  our  sin  has  under- 
taken. It  would  not  do  for  us  to  be  uniformly  successful  even  in 
our  best  meant  and  holiest  works,  our  prayers,  our  acts  of 
sacrifice,  our  sacred  enjoyments;  for  we  should  very  soon  fall 
back  into  the  subtle  power  of  our  self-will,  and  begin  to  imagine, 
in  our  vanity,  that  we  are  doing  something  ourselves.  Even  here 
we  need  to  be  defeated  and  baffled  now  and  then,  that  we  may 
be  shaken  out  of  our  self-reliance  and  sufficiency,  else  the  taste  of 
our  evil  habits  remains  in  us,  and  our  scent  is  not  changed. 

We  trust  and  fear,  we  question  and  believe, 
From  life's  dark  threads  a  trembling  faith  to  weave, 
Frail  as  the  web  that  misty  night  has  spun, 
Whose  dew-gemmed  awnings  glitter  in  the  sun. 

While  the  calm  centuries  spell  their  lessons  out. 
Each  truth  we  conquer  spreads  the  realm  of  doubt; 
When  Sinai's  summit  was  Jehovah's  throne, 
The  chosen  Prophet  knew  His  voice  alone; 
When  Pilate's  hall  that  awful  question  heard. 
The  heavenly  Captive  answered  not  a  word. 

Eternal  Truth !  beyond  our  hopes  and  fears 
Sweep  the  vast  orbits  of  thy  myriad  spheres! 
From  age  to  age,  while  history  carves  sublime 
On  her  waste  rock  the  flaming  curves  of  time. 
How  the  wild  swayings  of  our  planet  show 
That  worlds  unseen  surround  the  world  we  know.^ 

^  Oliver  Wendell  Holmes. 


Printed  by  Morrison  &  Gtbb  L™itki),  Ttdinhwrcfh 


